Path to Power
by sirius009
Summary: Harry Potter was excited to learn of the wizarding world, unfortunately he had no idea the crucible he was walking into. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter

 **A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first attempt at creative writing. I don't have a beta so all mistakes are my own.**

 **This story will go at least through year 5, and probably longer. It's obviously AU. As for pairing, it will be Harry/Daphne, but don't expect romance for a long, long time. There's an obvious starting point for relationships, and that's when it will happen.**

 **Edit: 3/10/18. Made a flew** _ **slight**_ **changes to a description or two.**

He was a little nervous. Although he had been assured by Professor Flitwick that there really _was_ a Platform 9 ¾ he hadn't really believed him. Looking at the clock to his left, he knew he had to make a run at the wall, it was twenty till 11, no time to dawdle. Fighting his nerves, Harry Potter started to walk towards what he hoped was some sort of illusion.

Relieved that he hadn't crashed into a solid barrier, he took a minute to survey his surroundings. The platform was _crowded_ as kids were waiting in line to get on the classic locomotive, their parents saying their final goodbyes. The train itself was a dark red, multi-carriage steam engine adorned with _Hogwarts Express_ in dazzling golden cursive on either side.

As he approached the train he began to observe his future classmates; towards the beginning of the line Harry noticed an angry looking blonde haired girl scowling at a dark skinned boy, much to the amusement of said boy's mother, a little ways back he noticed a pair of redheads playing a game of "keep away" with a third redhead - tossing a shimmering badge between themselves to the frustration of their brother. The entire scene was completely foreign to him.

Not for the first time he wondered how he had spent 11 years of his life unaware that another world co-existed right beside his own. Accepting magic had been hard enough; when Professor Flitwick had shown up on Privet Drive it took several demonstrations before he had accepted that the Professors magic wasn't just an elaborate trick. Being shown Diagon Alley, and all it entailed had forced him to accept that there was a magical society, but until he stepped on Platform 9 ¾ he was ignorant to the fact that magic could be wielded in such a subtle manner as to hide so much from their muggle counterparts who theoretically were standing only a few feet away.

The interior of the train was decadent; the burgundy corridor seemed to be unnaturally wide, and the hallway unnaturally loud as friends from across the Isles got reacquainted. As he attempted to find an empty compartment he observed a group of wizards wearing yellow and black ties tossing some type of ball between themselves while another group of witch's appeared to be gossiping about one of them; a frog that looked to be made out of chocolate had escaped the grip of another boy, forcing him to stumble into a group of girls in green. _Is this what normal kid do?_ He thought to himself. His years at the Dursleys hadn't given him much insight into what normal children did for entertainment; between his Aunt and Uncles neglect, and his cousin's bullying, he hadn't been the most popular kid in the neighborhood and was largely left alone.

Finally finding an empty compartment near the back of the third carriage, Harry slide the door shut and was pleasantly surprised to hear the noise of the corridor disappear. The compartment was large and simple; two long benches with burgundy cushions faced each other, separated by a basic mahogany table. A small smile spread across his lips as he removed his copy of " _Fundamental Magical Theory, "_ one of the many non-school booksthat Professor Flitwick had recommended he read before coming to.

While his trip to Diagon Alley, and Flourish and Blotts had been interesting, it had also been exceptionally distracting. Between the moving pictures and unfamiliar noises, had he been left to his own devices he doubted he would have bought anything other than his school books in an attempt to get in and out as quickly as possible.

Fortunately, under Flitwick's guidance, Harry had his school books, plus the recommended reference books for each subject, as well as an introductory book on several different topics. The weeks following his first foray into the magical world saw him trying to learn as much as he could about this strange new society.

He was interrupted from his reading five minutes later by a knock on the door; hoping that whomever was disturbing him would simply go away, he went back to his reading. A minute later the persistent visitor knocked again. Realizing that the sooner he dealt with his visitor the sooner he could get back to reading, Harry slide the door open, revealing two beautiful girls. Both were dressed in plain black robes, they each had long, black hair and dark brown skin, the girl on the left had her hair intricately styled, while her sister wore a simple braid.

"Do you mind if we join you? Everywhere else is full?" the girl with the fancy hair blurted out, causing him to take a small step back. The girl with the braid directed a slight frown at her sister, but otherwise stayed quiet.

After a slight delay, he gestured for the two girls to join him. An awkward moment later Harry realized that the sisters were waiting for him to introduce himself; he wasn't sure what to do, deciding on a simple handshake he somewhat loudly introduced himself as Harry Potter.

To their credit neither girl stared. Speaking for the first time the sister with the braid took the moment to introduce herself and her sister as Padma and Parvati Patil. After a few minutes of small talk, he learned that Padma and Parvati's father, Varun, worked as an Ambassador to the British Ministry of Magic, and as a gesture of goodwill between the two governments, Varun had sent his two daughters to Britain's premier school.

The trio soon fell into an amicable silence as Harry returned to reading his book. The reading was difficult, but interesting. The book wasn't exceptionally big, coming in at just under 400 pages, but was meant to introduce the reader to a wide-array of topics. The chapter he was currently reading dealt with strengthening the power behind your spells.

" _For hundreds of years academics were unaware of why individuals seemed to differ greatly in spell power. While it is normal for individuals to be particularly interested in one subject or another, it is not a given that this interest will translate to spellcasting. A particularly strong individual with no academic interest in Charms, for example, can often perform complex charms like the 'Patronus' and 'Aqua Erecto', even without a solid understanding of the theory, with little practice. Spells many Charm Masters may struggle with, a strong spellcaster can overcome with power._

 _For centuries many believed that a young witch or wizard would reach a "magical maturity" leading to a sudden increase in magical ability, the truth is more complex. While it may be true that many young witches and wizards see an increase in their spell work around the age of 16, that can generally be attributed to an older student's years of practice and dedication. When a young person attempts to cast magic for the first time, they are often met with disappointment. The failure isn't unexpected, and it doesn't mean that the spell has necessarily been cast wrong, it is entirely possible that the user is casting the spell properly, but not currently strong enough to obtain the desired result. As you practice with magic, your magic grows like a muscle; the more it is pushed, the stronger it becomes. In addition, magical strength can be increased in ways other than repeated spell use. Certain potions, for example, can increase your magical strength for a short period of time, and while controversial, certain rituals have the ability to temporarily, or in some cases permanently, increase a caster casting ability. Many academics suggest a more traditional approach to increasing magical strength. French magical theorist, Pierre De Galle, for example, posited that a wizard's magic was only as strong as their physical health, recommending everything from certain diets and exercises, to spell routines that help build strength."_

As the train began to slow, Harry packed his things up, both excited and slightly nervous, to finally be arriving at Hogwarts.

The sun setting over the Hogwarts grounds was a truly beautiful sight, Harry thought to himself as he climbed into an empty row boat.

The tradition of first years making the pilgrimage across the lake prior to their sorting in the great hall went back to the very first years of Hogwarts. As the school began to gain a measure of esteem, families from across the country and continental Europe began to send their children off to receive a proper education. The increased attendance created a need for a central gathering point for magical families to say goodbye to their children, thus the Hogwarts Express, and the tradition of shepherding students across the lake was born. With the introduction of horseless carriages a few decades later the tradition was eliminated for everyone but the first-year students. Every couple of decades somebody would complain about how time consuming the boats were, only to be ignored by the Board of Governors.

Personally, he was glad they kept the tradition. The lake provided a marvelous view of the picturesque landscape, as well as the various buildings and turrets that made up the campus.

Interrupted from his thoughts by a slight shaking of the boat, he realized he had company. Sitting across from him was a slender girl with sharp features and porcelain skin; her blue eyes met his briefly, before breaking eye contact. Breaking the slightly awkward eye contact, the girl reached out with long, manicured fingers to shake his hand.

"Lilith Moon." The girl stated in a soft, strong voice.

Giving her hand a brief squeeze, he tried to relax and smile; "Harry Potter." He hoped he sounded half as confident as Moon, but he wasn't sure he succeeded.

He noticed her instinctively glance at his scar, " _interesting"_ she mumbled more to herself than to Harry.

Interesting? What was interesting about his _name_. Squishing his face into a slight frown, his response came out a little harsh; "what's so _interesting_?"

If she was bothered by his tone, she didn't give tell. Shrugging slightly, she tilted her head to the side as if trying to come to some conclusion on him; responding in a blunt, somewhat mocking tone, "I expected you to be bigger."

With a scowl on his face, he asked her what she meant.

"I don't know; considering your fame, not to mention your status, I assumed the _boy-who-lived_ wouldn't appear so... sickly."

"I'm not sickly!" His petulance shining through. He knew damn well he wasn't the healthiest child. While he wasn't exactly starved, his portions were always small, and the Dursley's didn't stick to the healthiest diet.

Moon shrugged again; "head to the hospital wing and get a checkup, it's included in our tuition."

Choosing not to respond, the rest of the boat ride was spent in silence.

He was starting to get nervous, a quick glance around the corridor gave him the impression that he wasn't alone. They had been standing outside the great hall for the last five minutes waiting for the sorting ceremony to begin, and people were starting to get restless.

"Professor McGonagall, are they almost ready?" A bushy haired girl with her hand raised blurted out.

"Soon enough Miss Granger." Seeing she wasn't going to get any more details, Granger put her hand down, a frustrated scowl on her face.

Not a minute later Deputy Headmistress McGonagall called a blonde-haired, pig tailed girl to the front of the line; "Miss Abbott, they're ready for you."

He was starting to get nervous, Parvati Patil was in the process of being sorted, and any moment now it would be his turn.

He wasn't prepared for the commotion that came with his sorting. The whispers, and glares from students, and even some of the faculty, were starting to give him a headache. Placing the worn hat on his head, he was beginning to wonder if the damn thing worked when he heard a voice yell " _Ravenclaw!"_

Taking that as his cue to remove the hat, he stood up, briefly noticing that on his breast, the Hogwarts crest had been replaced with the crest of Ravenclaw. Glancing over at his new house, the enthusiastic response brought a genuine smile to his face. _They wanted him._ He thought to himself as he made his way over to the table decorated in blue and bronze, he took a seat across from Padma, who gave him a brief smile.

After the Headmaster's welcoming speech Padma took it upon herself to introduce him to Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein; and Penelope Clearwater, a fifth-year prefect.

Terry shook his hand briefly; his bespectacled, hazel eyes met his own; a feeling as though the lanky brunette was staring into his soul briefly overcame him, a moment later Boot smiled, quickly introducing himself before grabbing some food.

While Terry was polite, and Penelope was calm and inviting, pointing out the professors and answering any questions the group may have; Anthony Goldstein, a pudgy boy with curly black hair, sneered at him before turning away without giving an introduction.

As dinner began to wind down Penelope gathered the first years to escort them to Ravenclaw Tower.

Ravenclaw Tower was the furthest common room from the great hall, Penelope explained as she led the first years zigging and zagging across the hard-stone floor. Five minutes later the group stopped in front of an enchanted knocker, realizing she had everyone's attention Penelope explained how to access the Ravenclaw common room.

"While Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin rely on traditional passwords for access to their common rooms, Ravenclaw's have to answer a riddle in order to gain access."

"What if we get the riddle wrong?" A short, blonde haired boy replied quickly, anxiety evident in his voice.

After he introduced himself as "Stephen Cornfoot" Penelope answered his question with a shrug; "the riddles are basic, if you get it wrong you can either try again or wait for someone to open the door."

The common room door opened to a landing on a winding stairway. Gesturing for the group to follow her downstairs, Harry couldn't help but draw a comparison between the black-haired prefect and a muggle tour guide.

The lower level of the common room was peaceful. Torches illuminated a scattering of desks surrounded by bookcases.

"This is the study area." Gesturing to the bookcase closest to her, Penelope continued her tour. "The bookcases are separated by topic, and are fair game for any Ravenclaw, the only caveat is that the books are charmed to return to their spot on the bookshelf every night at midnight."

Picking up a book she turned to a table, sitting down, she gestured for them to encircle her and continued her speech.

"Each table, like the desks in your dorm, are surrounded by silencing wards." At this she gestured to some invisible construct. "And if you tap this rune" she continued taping a rune on the bottom right corner of the table, "you can play some classical music."

Listening to her explanation, he idly wondered if Beethoven was a wizard.

Penelope continued, gesturing towards the dueling pits. Apparently this was the highlight of the tour, the second she had turned on her heel and started walking towards a door on the back wall, his classmates began whispering in quiet excitement to each other, he vaguely overheard Goldstein boasting to Michael Corner that he was going to make the dueling team as Ravenclaws second year representative.

The dueling pits were, admittedly, interesting. Several artefacts surrounded the half dozen dueling pits. The 25-foot platforms had 10 foot wide circles stationed on each side, step out of the circle, and you get disqualified.

"The dueling pits are reserved for the dueling team only." Penelope continued her tour, to several audible groans from the first years. "You will be able to try out for the dueling team starting second year, although there is generally a dueling club for first years" she explained before leading the group back upstairs.

Penelope was right, he noticed as the prefect led the group into the main room. While receiving an explanation of the bulletin board, Harry noticed that there indeed was a first year only dueling club meeting. Surrounded by fliers for everything from owl order catalogues and tutoring services; was a simple, plain flier stating that the meeting was set for Wednesday in the great hall.

The main floor of the common room was beautiful. Perfectly circular, with tall arching windows providing a magnificent view of the greenhouses, quidditch pitch, lake, and forbidden forest. Leather couches and soft chairs surrounded a wide variety of tables, and the sound of laughter filled the room.

Their Head of House, Professor Flitwick, chose that moment to drop in and hold an impromptu meeting.

"Welcome first years! I am your head of house Filius Flitwick, and for the last 25 years I have had the honor of being the charms professor here at Hogwarts." The small professor said with a warming smile.

"A couple of things before bed. There is a calendar hanging up in the first-year dorms, I will be meeting with each of you once a month throughout your first year, the schedule will be on the calendar." The bigger girl in front of him, Mandy Brocklehurst if he remembered correctly, shifted nervously at that announcement. _"Is she intimidated by the professor?"_ Harry thought to himself before turning his attention back to Flitwick.

"Classes begin at 8am tomorrow morning. For the first week of the year, the first-year dorms will have an alarm set for 6 am, breakfast begins at 6:30, you should try and be out of the great hall by 7:45."

With that, the charms professor bid the first year's goodnight, and disappeared out the door.

The dorm room itself was rather large, and contained five full-sized beds, each space contained a small desk, wardrobe, and bookshelf, as well as curtains that kept all out outside noise.

Picking the space closest to the bathroom, and next to Terry Boot, Harry began to unpack before going over his class schedule. His Mondays looked pretty full; double transfiguration and potions before a break for lunch, followed by double lessons in charms and herbology. Picking up the syllabus for transfiguration, Harry began to prepare for class before bed.

Harry woke up with a start the next morning; " _what the hell is that noise?"_ He thought to himself before remembering his surroundings. Grabbing his glasses and throwing the dark blue curtains open, he idly noticed that the alarm stopped ringing. Deciding to beat the rush; he got out of bed and made a quick left towards the first year bathroom.

In many ways, the bathroom looked like a regular muggle bathroom; several stalls along the marble walls to relieve yourself; ornate sinks, each with their own mirror; and several private showers along the back wall. There was one major difference, however. With no knobs to turn on the water, Harry was at a complete loss, for about 30 seconds. Examining the wall, a little closer he noticed the words "on" and "off" along with "hot" and "cold" engraved in the marble. Confused on what to do, he tapped the "on" marking with his finger, baffled when he got no response, he spent several minutes trying to figure out the strangest shower he had ever seen.

" _Maybe..."_ he thought to himself, grabbing his wand from outside the shower, he felt the increasingly familiar warmth accompanied by a slight glow of his wand, " _if I touch the button with my wand.."_

The showerhead immediately spouts a jet of lukewarm water into his face, with a grin, Harry started messing with the controls till he found the perfect temperature.

A half hour later, a fully dressed Harry Potter stood in front of a mirror in the common room, a look of frustration on his bespectacled face.

Tapping his cheek with his wand he tried to stay calm as he attempted to get the teeth cleaning spell to work. _"Puriter dentes"_ he enunciatedto no success.

A small chuckle interrupted his next attempt, followed by a deep voice.

"First spell, huh? Said the boy with thick, dark hair. "I'm Roger Davies." He continued, extending his arm to Harry.

"Harry Potter." He replied, noticing that Davies was wearing an amused look as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Let me see you cast the spell again." Davies gestured to his wand, a grunt was his only response.

" _Puriter dentes."_ He tried again, getting the same result.

Davies was giving him a thoughtful expression; "what are you thinking about when you try and cast the spell?"

Taking a moment to formulate a response, he hadn't really been thinking of anything, had he?

He verbalized as much to the third year, sending him into teacher mode.

"Have you read up on any magical theory?"

Harry nodded his head, seeing where Davies was going with this.

"What do you need to do to successfully cast a spell?"

Again, Harry thought for a moment.

"Intent. You have to want the spell to accomplish its intent. Visualization, you must have a clear picture of what you want the outcome of your spell to be. And a focus; something to channel your magic."

The dark-haired boy nodded enthusiastically.

"Exactly. Now what are you doing? Do you know what the spell you're using is supposed to do?"

"It's supposed to clean my teeth."

"And how are you visualizing that?"

Harry thought for a moment " _How am I visualizing the spell?"_

"When I say the incantation, I am visualizing all of my teeth being clean."

Davies nodded in understanding;

"The visualization of the spell is the hardest part. You need to visualize the plaque disappearing from your teeth, your breath freshening, and your teeth whitening. Spells get easier with time, the more you practice, the better you get."

Ten minutes later Harry had cast the spell correctly, and the pair headed out of the common room, towards the great hall.

Roger Davies liked to talk, Harry realized as they left the common room, making a slight right heading down a different hallway than the one Penelope showed them the night before, the boy had barely shut up.

Noticing his confusion as they continued down the unfamiliar hall, Davies grinned. "The other way takes too long" he said, stopping in front of a painting of an eagle flying over a forest. "Nobody really goes all the way around if they don't have to."

"Fly like an eagle" the older boy stated, holding his wand on the painting as he did so, to his surprise the painting opened into a narrow corridor.

"This passage is the best way to get around." Pointing up Davies continued, "if you go up, you end up on the 7th floor corridor, you go down one and the next landing will drop you right outside the charms classroom."

"Are there any other passageways?" Harry asked eagerly.

With a smirk Davies continued with a brief explanation of Hogwarts secrets.

"Sure, of course, but they _are_ difficult to find. Most of the ones I have discovered have been behind portraits that hold some sort of significance to a specific house. The passageway reveals itself only when you guess the right password, generally it has something to do with the picture."

Filing that away for later, Harry absentmindedly thought that spending some time discovering these secrets could be fun.

Descending the staircase towards the corridor, the older student continued with the small talk.

"What are you most interested in?"

If he was being honest, he was interested in everything, at least to a certain extent. While herbology, potions, history, and astronomy may be interesting, they didn't excite him nearly as much as being able to use his wand.

Verbalizing his thoughts, Davies nodded his head in understanding. "I completely agree, I excel at charms and defense against the dark arts" he started to puff up in pride at this point "but have never been able to get the hang of potions, not that Snape makes it easy."

The pair exited through a picture of a red-haired madman with an axe, chasing a pair of unicorns through a field. Without realizing it, they had somehow ended up right around the corner from the great hall.

Entering the hall and veering left towards the Ravenclaw table, the two boys separated to go their own ways. Taking a seat across from Su Li, Harry took a moment to really take in the great hall.

The professors table overlooked four, long tables separated by house; looking up for the first time he was awed by the enchantments on the ceiling. An image of the rising sun met his eyes as a pair of birds chased each other in the distance.

Around the hall, he watched as the Gryffindor ghost grossed out a couple of first year girls as his head barely clung to his neck. Up at the staff table he saw the groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, engaging in a conversation with Professor Sprout; while the former seemed to be enjoying the conversation, the later seemed a bit frustrated, gesturing wildly with her arms about one thing or another.

An aggressive " _hoot"_ interrupted him from his thoughts, turning to face the large barn owl, Harry pulled out several copper knuts, placing them in a holster attached to the bird's leg and grabbing his copy of " _The Daily Prophet."_

The newspaper was like nothing he had ever seen. Completely done in black and white, each headline appeared to be floating slightly above the page, pictures were moving in and out of frame, and he swore he could hear soft voices emanating from the periodical.

The first page was dedicated entirely to today's Wizengamot vote on re-legalizing the personal use of blood wards. The topic was interesting, even if he didn't understand what he was reading. Apparently, blood wards helped families ward their homes against people who were not blood relatives. While Lord Malfoy seemed to be leading the charge for repealing "archaic" laws against blood wards, Dowager Longbottom believed the issue was a "dangerous, slippery slope," citing the casters ability to build in potentially lethal punishments for intruders, and generally wondering "where does the obsession with blood stop?"

The next two pages were dedicated to sports, while the last several pages went into some detail about foreign affairs. Out of interest he began reading an article on the French Ministry of Magic.

 **LaPointe Names DuPont as Chief Advisor**

 _Late yesterday afternoon, in a surprise move, French Minister of Magic Caroline LaPointe named former International Confederation of Wizards member, Francis DuPont, as her chief political advisor. LaPointe, who took office August 1st, cited Dupont's experience in naming him to France's second highest political position._

" _Francis DuPont has over 15 years' experience serving in the International Confederation of Wizards, his extensive knowledge of domestic, and international issues made him Francis the obvious choice to fill this post." LaPointe said in a statement through her publicist._

 _Of course, Francis DuPont is the nephew of notorious French necromancer Marcel DuPont; who was exiled to Bolivia three years ago for practicing necromancy on recently deceased muggles._

 _Francis DuPont himself is not without controversy. During his final year at Beauxbatons he was suspended for his last term due to an unspecified incident._

'I guess politics is the same everywhere' he thought to himself before joining his classmates who were heading towards the exit.

Walking towards the transfiguration classroom with the rest of the Ravenclaw first years was an interesting experience. In a past life, school was a quiet, lonely endeavor. Between his cousins bullying, and his own awkwardness, Harry wasn't used to walking in groups, or taking part in pointless small talk. Fortunately for him, Dudley Dursley didn't go to Hogwarts.

Turning his attention back to the conversation at hand, he was able to catch the end of Michael Corner's over-the-top story about his trip to the United States over the summer.

"I _know_ that Horned Serpents are common in the western part of the country but stumbling across a whole nest of them while hiking is a bit unnerving." Corner continued, the false bravery evident in his voice.

"Wow Michael, what did you do? I _hate_ snakes! I couldn't imagine running across a whole nest of them" Megan Jones stated, putting her hand on his arm as she did so. "I've heard those things are really dangerous!" The willowy blonde clearly had agenda.

"Well if there had only been one of them, I'm sure my dad would have let me kill it, a horn from a horned serpent makes a great wand core, you know."

From next to him he heard Terry Boot let out a small snort, drawing the group's attention to the lanky brunette.

"They're not even venomous." Boot said, rolling his eyes. "Ilvermorny named one of their houses after the creature, they raise them at the school, and handling them is part of their Magical Creatures curriculum."

Looking slightly embarrassed, Corner shrugged him off; "yeah but those are _tamed,_ and I've heard their Care of Magical Creatures teacher is a parselmouth, so it's kinda like they're cheating. They're much more dangerous in the wild."

Boot shrugged at this, deciding to let the conversation die.

The transfiguration classroom had two rows of two-person desks. As he slowly walked towards a desk, he couldn't help but take in the room.

The walls were covered with posters and diagrams, showing everything from basic inanimate to inanimate transfiguration, all the way up to the Animagus transformation and beyond. Behind McGonagall's desk hung a green and yellow "Kenmare Kestrels" quidditch poster, adorned with a trio of chasers tossing a quaffle back and forth between them.

Taking a seat next to Boot; Harry saw a flash of familiar long, black hair taking a seat at the desk next to him. Joining Lilith Moon at her table was another first year Slytherin, a blonde-haired girl with a fair complexion and green eyes. The chubby blonde must have noticed him staring, because a second later, Moon looked over at him, giving him a slight grin, before whispering quietly to the girl next to her.

At the front of the room, Professor McGonagall took a moment to gather everyone's attention before diving into her lecture.

"Welcome to first year transfiguration, I am Professor McGonagall, and I will be your teacher for at least the next five years. Before we begin, can anyone tell me what transfiguration is?"

Padma Patil was ultimately called on to provide the answer; "transfiguration is a branch of magic where you change one object, into another."

"Very good, Ms. Patil. Take 5 points for Ravenclaw." The girl puffed up in pride at earning some house points before McGonagall continued; "while what you are saying is true, transfiguration is actually a branch of magic that focuses on the alteration of the form or appearance of an object, via the alteration of the object's molecular structure..."

The lecture went on for another 45 minutes, and Harry noticed that the chapter he had read out of his standard transfiguration book, as well as " _Transfiguration for the Novice"_ covered nearly all the professors talking points.

A while later both he and Boot both had a toothpick sitting in front of them, with the goal of turning said toothpick into a needle. It was a standard first step in transfiguration. Since a toothpick and a needle are the same size, the only thing he would have to do is change the wood into metal and change the coloring from brown to silver.

Going through the wand motions and clearly speaking the incantation, Harry was somewhat surprised to see absolutely no change in his toothpick. Five minutes, and several attempts later, Harry let out a frustrated sigh and set his wand down on his desk.

Fortunately, a quick glance around the room let him know that he wasn't the only one having trouble; from next to him, he could see Boot with an intense expression on his face, seemingly trying to start his toothpick on fire with his mind. Behind him, he could see Anthony Goldstein making big, over the top wand movements while shouting his incantation with no success, across from him Mandy Brocklehurst and Millicent Bulstrode had completely abandoned the task and were talking in a corner; while next to him, Moon had her head on the desk.

 _What am I doing wrong?_ He asked himself. Remembering the steps, he had gone through with Roger Davies that morning; Harry sat back to think about what he had to do. What was his intent? He obviously wanted to turn his toothpick into a needle, but what sort of changes does a toothpick need to make to become a needle? First, he thought to himself, he needed to change the base material, change the wood into metal. Then he would need to change the color from a light brown to a shining silver.

Picking up his wand, Harry went through the instructions again, this time focusing on what he needed to do, pushing his magic forward.

To his surprise, his toothpick had turned a metallic gray. Although still clearly wood, the progress gave him a slight boost in confidence.

Realizing that he had Boots full attention, Harry shut his eyes, and tried again. Feeling a slight tug in his navel, Harry opened his eyes. Laying in front of him was a brown, metal, needle.

Seemingly amused by his transfiguration, Terry picked up his half transfiguration and smiled.

"How the hell did you manage to do that?"

Harry honestly didn't know and set out to try again.

By the time the bell rang twenty minutes later, he had a nice stack of perfectly transfigured needles in front of him, much to the rest of the class's chagrin.

The contrast between the transfiguration and potions classrooms couldn't be clearer. Where the transfiguration classroom was well-lit with posters on the walls, generally exuding a tense calm; the dungeon classroom was dimly lit and plain, with a tense atmosphere.

In front of the room, professor Snape stood with a scowl on his face as he took attendance, checking names off the class roster as he called the names of his classmates. The professor paused at his name, narrowing his eyes and spitting out his name.

 _Does he not like me?_ It sure seemed that way, though he couldn't figure out why. Midway through the lecture it was apparent that Severus Snape, for some reason, really didn't like him. The professor had spent half of his lecture asking him questions about various potions and ingredients at random, seemingly taking delight with each wrong answer.

The lecture wrapped up, and, after teaching the class of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuff the stasis charm, started demonstrating how to properly prepare fresh ingredients; slowly demonstrating the difference between chopping, grinding, and crushing the various ingredients they would need for Wednesdays "blister salve."

Potions, Harry quickly realized, was not his best class. The precision and concentration needed to properly prepare the ingredients was frustrating. Terry, on the other hand, seemed almost relaxed as he prepared his ingredients, and Harry couldn't help but stare transfixed cast he stasis charm on his ingredients.

"My mom's a potions mistress." Boot answered his unasked question. "I've been brewing with her since I was 7, I can help you, if you'd like."

Taking him up on his offer, Harry soon found Boots calm, patient instructions much easier to follow than Snapes intimidating glare, and by the time the bell rung signifying the end of class, he was confident that he'd be able to brew a high-quality potion the next time around.

 _Lumos._ Harry whispered for the third time, a faint light emanating from the tip of his holly wand. The basic light charm was the first charm that Flitwick taught his class of first year Ravenclaws and Gryffindor's. It wasn't particularly difficult to cast, but it would be dead useful for moving around in the dark.

"Very good, Mr. Potter. But try to push a little more power into the spell, visualize how bright you want your light to be; don't worry too much about overpowering your spells at this point, I want you to feel the difference between an underpowered and overpowered spell, it should help you learn to control your magic."

With a nod of his head, Harry cast the spell again. This time his Lumos illuminated the room, causing several people to stare as he cancelled the spell with a quick _nox._ To his left, he noticed Hermione Granger's wand light up, but with much more control than any of his attempts.

It was an exhausting effort, trying to refine and manipulate a spell, and he couldn't help but be pleased with himself while he compared himself to his classmates.

While Granger, Boot, and the Patil twins were able to quickly cast the charm, besides himself, only Granger and Parvati had been able to manipulate the spells power with any success.

As the bell rang, he couldn't help but be pleased with how his classes had gone. While potions and herbology didn't appear to be his strong points, Harry quickly realized that his wand work was above average.

Prior to coming to Hogwarts, he had, admittedly, been nervous. How could he compare to his classmates that grew up around magic? Did he really belong in this strange new world? He had tried to catch up, reading as many books as possible while practicing wand movements from his room on Privet Drive, but that hardly meant he would be successful

Through one day of classes that anxiety had begun to disappear, replaced with a new-found determination. "Maybe I do belong" he thought to himself as he exited the classroom and headed back towards the common room.

" _Stupefy"_ he almost yelled. He had been practicing spells in an unused classroom for nearly an hour; transfiguring toothpicks into needles, and needles back into toothpicks and practicing his Lumos charm before moving onto a few new spells.

He had been able to successfully cast the jelly legs jinx, and he had been able to hold the basic shield charm for nearly ten seconds, but he couldn't get his stunning charm to work. He could _feel something_ in his magic, like a river crashing into a dam, but the dam was holding. It was _frustrating_ knowing that he was casting the spell properly, but not didn't have the ability to perform the spell. Remembering what he had read on the train, he vowed to come back to the stunning spell once he built up his strength.

Half hour later Harry Potter found himself inside Hogwarts famous library.

The two-story room was beautiful. Wooden floors led to hundreds of tall bookcases, long study tables filled with students reading and doing their homework, and a stern looking middle aged woman with salt and pepper hair observing it all from a tiny desk near the entrance.

Walking over to the catalog, Harry picked up the quill and began to write on the enchanted parchment.

The library's cataloging system was different than anything he had ever seen. Each row had an enchanted piece of parchment; to find the book, or topic you were researching, all you had to do was write the books title and if it was available, the book would appear on the parchment. The system worked much the same way for authors or subjects, but would present you with a list of books, tap the title of the book and you're presented with a quick summary as well as what topics the book falls under, tap the book again and it would appear.

His failed stunner still on his mind, he wrote " _magical strength"_ on the parchment.

He immediately recognized a book by " _Pierre De Galle,"_ The French theorist that was mentioned in _"Fundamental Magical Theory_."

Book in hand, he headed to one of the few empty tables near the transfiguration section and began to read.

Thirty minutes later he was interrupted from his reading on basic strengthening exercises by an uncertain voice to his right.

"Is anybody sitting here?"

Looking up Harry immediately recognized Hermione Granger. Bushy brown hair, ink stains on her right hand, and buck teeth; it was easy for him to imagine that Granger probably didn't have the easiest childhood. Standing up from his chair, and extending his right hand, he tried to sound reassuring.

"Harry Potter."

With a firm handshake she replied in kind and took a seat, pulling out a familiar transfiguration textbook.

An hour later and Harry was conflicted. He wasn't sure how he felt about Hermione Granger. On one hand, he felt that the two of them probably had quite a bit in common, if her appearance and his limited interactions with the girl told him anything.

He had seen her taking extensive notes and paying rapt attention to Professor Flitwick in charms. Like him, she was clearly dedicated to her studies, and it would be nice to have a friend who pushed him to be his best. If Granger had been bullied as a child, that would only be a bonus.

While he felt bad for her, he could relate. Years of neglect and physical abuse from his cousin had left him as an introvert, maybe they also had that in common.

On the other hand, she was desperate for attention, and in the worst possible way; bouncing in her seat to answer questions in class and glaring if she wasn't picked to answer. When she was picked, she had this _tone_ to her voice, it annoyed him, and if the looks on the faces of their classmates told him anything, he wasn't the only one. Her attitude probably wouldn't win her any popularity contests. Maybe he could work with her? He didn't need to make enemies if he could avoid it.

Unaware of his thoughts, the Gryffindor was currently muttering under her breath.

"What's that you're talking about, Granger?"

"I just don't get the point. Why are we transfiguring toothpicks into needles? What practical application could that, or the levitation charm that's on our syllabus, or the jelly legs jinx ever serve?"

He was surprised, if he was being honest with himself. The muggleborn looked like the type of girl who meticulously researched every aspect of something before making a life-altering commitment.

"Didn't whoever visited you and your family give you an information booklet and answer your questions?"

"Of course!" She snapped, before apologizing sheepishly.

"It's just that I turned down a scholarship to a very prestigious muggle school for this opportunity, and now I'm starting to regret it."

"So why did you accept?" He couldn't imagine returning to the muggle world.

"I was excited. You grow up reading kid's stories about giants, magic, and unicorns, it's all supposed to be fantasy! When I suddenly learned they were all real, I couldn't turn down an opportunity to learn about this world! But now that I'm here I feel a bit let-down."

Harry couldn't relate to that. He loved everything about Hogwarts and what he was learning.

 _Maybe she's just homesick?"_

"Well to answer your question." He replied, confidently. "The classes start easy. As first years it's all about getting used to _using_ magic. While the charms may not be useful for everyday life, they're magically taxing, which helps you build magical strength. Professor Flitwick expects you to learn the more useful everyday charms on your own."

"What do you mean, magical strength." She looked curious, as if she had never given the idea any thought.

 _I thought she was smarter than this._

"Magical strength. You can't honestly expect to start taking healing classes as a first year."

"But I haven't read about that anywhere." She frowned, clearly, she felt cheated by the required reading for depriving her of this information.

"It's not in any of our readings. Magic is like a mental muscle. Think of a long-distance runner. They didn't wake up one day and run a marathon without training, they spent time, running more and more kilometers each day. Magic is the same way, you must build up endurance and strength, slowly expanding your repertoire to include more difficult and useful spells. I can lend you my copy of _Fundamental Magical Theory,_ if you want."

Granger accepted his offer with a smile, as he retrieved the book from his bag.

Hermione was funny, he thought as she finished up a story about accidentally setting her dad on fire when she was 8.

"...and then my mum started beating him with a towel as he rolled on the floor, trying to put the flames out!"

Her laughter was contagious. They had spent the last 45 minutes talking about school, and trading stories. He had told her about his relatives, leaving out some of the more embarrassing details. While she had told him about her parents, who owned a small dental practice near their home.

"Tell me about some of your accidental magic."

He thought for a minute, before smiling.

"Well this summer, before I turned 11, we were celebrating my cousin's birthday at the zoo in London." He remembered fondly. The trip to the zoo was one of the best days of his life, despite the bit of magic that had enraged his aunt and uncle.

"Dudley had been going on all day about how he couldn't wait to see the snakes. So, when we finally got to the snake house, he was so excited he almost wet himself." And he had, by the time they had reached the snake exhibits his cousin had already downed a large coke and had been squirming uncomfortably.

"So, when we got there, he became angry when the snakes were all hiding in their enclosures, not doing anything. So, he began yelling and knocking on the glass, trying to get their attention. Next thing you know, the glass had disappeared, and a 12-foot boa constrictor was slithering towards my cousin!"

He frowned at that last part, his aunt and uncle had thrown a fit, alternating between screeching in terror at the scene, and yelling at him for being freak.

"The snake then slithered out of its cage and thanked me on the way!"

"Wait. The snake _thanked_ you?" Granger appeared confused.

"Yeah" he shrugged "then I told him 'no problem' and we both went on our way."

"So, you can talk to snakes?" The glint in her eye suggested that she was about to learn everything she could about his ability.

"I guess I can."

Beady black eyes surveyed the room. He was meeting Lucius Malfoy at the _"Spotted Pegasus"_ and Malfoy was _late._ The letter he had sent suggested the meeting was urgent, and to meet him that night at half past 7. It was now 7:45. Severus Snape was a stickler for promptness, and with each passing second, he struggled a little more to keep the annoyance off his face.

He knew why he was meeting at the dimly lit bar, and he had been expecting the letter. His dark mark, barely recognizable in May, had been getting progressively darker throughout the summer. The dark lord had always said he had a contingency plan.

Still, after more than a decade he had thought something had gone wrong. And although he would never admit it to Lucius, he had more than hoped something had. While he had initially been dedicated to returning to the Dark Lord, he had grown comfortable with his life.

Teaching those snot-nosed mouth breathers brought him no pleasure, that was true. But his time for independent research had allowed him to gain some respect in the potions community. He wasn't sure he was ready to give that up.

Interrupted from his musing by Lucius's arrival. The man was sporting an emerald coat with a fine black robe, a glass of dark red wine in his left hand.

"Severus!" The blonde haired mine greeted cheerfully, well, as cheerfully as a Malfoy can be.

"How have you been? It's been too long."

"Not too bad, Lucius, and yourself."

"No complaints. The Wizengamot has kept me busy."

"Congratulations on your victory. I look forward to being able to buy vampire's blood again." Snape responded seriously.

"So, Severus, Draco tells me he's been sorted into your house. Narcissa and I weren't surprised, of course."

Snape knew what Lucius was doing. It would look suspicious if he had come in and silenced the table; best to make some small talk and wait for eavesdroppers to lose interest.

Half hour later and the pair were finishing dinner. Silencing the table, the two could finally get to the point.

"The Dark Lord will return." Well that's one way to start a conversation, Snape thought to himself.

"The mark has been getting darker." he replied curtly.

"Yes, and I received a letter from Bellatrix, a few days ago."

This did catch his attention, nobody had heard or seen much of Bellatrix Lestrange since she escaped custody.

"And how is Bellatrix enjoying Bulgaria?" She had apparently taken up residence in the Eastern European country, staying in an old Lestrange cottage avoiding the public.

"Hard to tell. She doesn't talk much about it." Bellatrix Lestrange was currently the most wanted person in the world; all her Gringotts accounts had been froze. For someone used to luxury, he had to imagine the situation had made her quite emotional.

"The Dark Lord is in the process of doing the impossible." Lucius said, taking a sip of his near empty wine.

"Bellatrix contacted me with a plan in May. The Dark Lord had possessed a man. In order for him to return to full strength, he needed access to Hogwarts. So, I arranged for him to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

"Quirrell." Snape said, more to himself than to Lucius.

"Yes." The blonde responded, an amused look on his face.

"Our lord will retrieve the necessary artefact when the time is right. In the meantime, he has requested you brew several potions, and acquire certain ingredients."

His head may have been nodding, but internally, Snape was weighing his options. Best to brew the potions and acquire the ingredients, he could decide on a course of action later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

 **A/N: This chapter is for Mira Mirth. Her story,** _"On The Way To Greatness,"_ **was one of the first great attempts at a 7 year AU.. it's now abandoned.**

"Settle down Daphne!" Lily Moon scolded, "you're acting like a child!"

"I am _not_ acting like a child." Her friend snapped. It was Wednesday night and they were waiting for the first-year dueling club to begin. While Lily wasn't very interested in the activity, Daphne had been itching to step into a Hogwarts dueling pit since the moment she arrived. "It's in her blood," as Daphne would say.

Still, Lily couldn't deny the club had its uses. The opportunity to assess her classmates while learning to defend herself did have its perks.

Dueling had been an exciting addition to the Hogwarts curriculum sometime in the 1980's.

Citing the class being a core component of both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, the Board of Governors had insisted that Hogwarts add some dueling component to Hogwarts curriculum.

That led to the revival of the house dueling teams, a first-year dueling club, and the option of adding dueling as an elective at the beginning of third year.

As a result, for the last decade or so Hogwarts, and England in general, had been far more competitive in recent competitions.

"The house elves have outdone themselves." Lily thought as she glanced around the great hall.

In just 90 minutes the little demons had managed to clean the hall, add about two dozen dueling pits, and set up a raised platform at the front of the room.

Daphne, who had appeared to settle down substantially, was wearing a confident smirk on her chubby face. A few rows down, she saw similar looks on, Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott.

Her eyes wandered over to a mess of thick, black hair and emerald eyes talking to that exhausting muggleborn standing a few rows up.

She had been surprised to find herself sharing a boat with him after getting off the Hogwarts Express.

Lily had meant to grab a boat with Daphne and Blaise, but they had hopped with Tracey Davis, leaving her the odd-witch out.

She hadn't known what to expect from the kid. There were very little knowns about Harry Potter.

She certainly hadn't expected him to be so scrawny; and had tried to tease him a bit, but her comment must have hit a nerve, if his reaction was any indication.

His performance in transfiguration and defense against the dark arts was mildly impressive. Transfiguration was their most difficult core class, in her opinion, and he had taken to it like a fish to water.

While in defense he had been one of the first to grasp the jelly legs jinx. While he wasn't particularly advanced, as far as she could tell, he picked up concepts quickly and generally worked out any issues he was having with his spells by the end of class.

She frowned at that. That jinx was her best spell, and it _still_ didn't come as naturally to her as it appeared to for him.

He was garbage at potions though at least she had that on him. At least he had been smart enough to pair with Boot.

Rumor was that he was pretty terrible at herbology as well but again, he had wisely found a smart partner in Hannah Abbott.

Pairing up with Boot and Abbott in subjects he was average at could be considered cunning. "Maybe there's hope for him" she thought to herself.

The first-year dueling club had, in the past been run by Master's candidates who shad shown a proficiency for dueling; and this year was no different.

This year's volunteers were pureblood Rupert Macnair, a former Slytherin studying under Professor Snape for his Masters in the Dark Arts; and Isabel Douglas, some muggleborn witch with a talent for warding.

Despite her earlier disinterest, Lily found herself interested in what they had to show them, her family and the Macnair's were old friends, she knew Rupert was a vicious dueler.

She frowned, she had no idea he was teaching.

"Good evening first years." The auburn-haired witch opened with a smile. "Welcome to first year dueling, I'm Isabel Douglas, and this", the muggleborn gestured to the handsome blonde to her left, "is my partner in crime Rupert Macnair."

Lily grimaced at the muggle reference; _"why the hell do they always do that?"_

The pair opened with a overview of basic dueling rules.

"Each pit is 25 feet long." Rupert explained in a relaxed tone.

"The pit is 12 feet wide, with a ten-foot-wide circle inside for each dueler." Rupert seemed to be looking into her eyes; her stomach fluttered.

"The goal is to incapacitate your opponent." To Lily's displeasure, it was the witch that continued.

"You do this in one of three ways; your opponent gives up, your opponent is knocked unconscious or loses their wand, or your opponent steps out of their circle." said Douglas, wrapping up the basic rules.

The two then took their place at each end of the platform, grabbing Lily's attention.

"I guess we get to find out if the mudblood has any talent" She heard Malfoys comment from her right. She frowned at the usage of the dirty word but agreed with the statement nonetheless.

She thought about Rupert's style. Lily knew that his father favored a more aggressive form, one that Rupert emulated well. He generally relied on a small group of powerful spells, choosing speed and familiarity over a more varied approach; using his quickness, and awareness to nimbly dodge spells as opposed to wasting time on shields.

The two bowed to each other, explaining the custom as they did so.

Rupert opened with a basic stunner, verbalizing the spell for the benefit of the class as opposed to necessity.

Douglas responded with a _protego_ explaining the spell as she went.

"Protego is the most basic shield spell you can cast, when cast correctly you will notice a soft blue shimmer." She gestured to her own, still intact shield. "Protego" is useful against most basic to mid-level spells, although the shields strength is powered by your magic.

The muggleborn flung a reductor back at Rupert, who dodged easily to his left.

"What Isabel just demonstrated is the reductor curse. An entry level blasting curse, that when cast properly is a dark red. As with all spells, the power of your spell is a result of your wand work, and experience with the spell."

"Instead of using a shield, I chose to dodge. You must be careful when dodging in an official duel, you don't want to step outside your circle. Successfully dodging instead of shielding saves your strength, but requires exceptional awareness, and quickness."

The two continued in that manner for the next few minutes before ending their duel without a winner, before telling them to pair off with someone in another house.

Lily frowned. She wasn't here to make friends.

With that said, there was no lack of options. She knew enough people in her year, and catching up with Susan would be nice. She hadn't talked to the girl since her birthday.

But her mind wandered back to her earlier thoughts. Making a split decision, she sought out the famous Ravenclaw.

"Potter!" She yelled, probably louder than she had to. "Any chance we can pair up?"

She noticed the slight frown on Granger's face, but Potter just shrugged.

"Sure."

Her blue eyes watched her opponent as he threw up another " _Protego."_ They had been practicing three of the spells mentioned during Rupert and Douglas's duel; right now, she was casting the jelly legs jinx on Potter, and he was practicing his shield charm.

Squaring her shoulders and dipping into a slight crouch she shouted _"Locomotor Wibbly!"_ while gripping her wand firmly and making a left-to-right cut downward; Lily began to let a satisfied grin cross her face as the jinx jumped from her wand - only to see her spell absorbed by Potter's bright, light blue shield.

" _Three in a row, damn him."_ She was starting to get frustrated; the jelly legs jinx was her best spell; but after initially catching the boy off-guard, she hadn't been able to burst through his stupid shield.

He interrupted her musings to suggest they switch it up. She gave him a quick smile and a nod.

"I'm ready!"

The words had barely left her dark-red lips when her legs turned to went to mush. She panicked briefly before reversing the spell.

"Sorry!" _"Why's he apologizing? Is he nervous to be around a girl?"_ No, that couldn't be it, he hung out with the muggleborn. _"Maybe he thinks I'm pretty?"_ She tried to keep the amused look off her face.

"No need to apologize! You're fast!"

"Thanks! I've been practicing!" _Practicing already?_ Didn't take him much time to settle in.

Five minutes, and a couple pieces of advice from Harry later, and her " _Protego"_ had made significant progress. He was a good teacher, calmly explaining how he got his own shield to work so well.

While her shield had started as a faint light blue, it was now more of a pale light blue. Marginal progress, but progress nonetheless.

Despite Harry's tutelage, she was still unable to cast the disarming charm by the end of the session. She could feel the spell wanting to work, but had been unable to push through the barrier, a problem her partner didn't seemed to have.

As they were packing up she acted on impulse, somewhat blurting her words out.

"I'm sorry about before…on the boat." She quickly added. "I didn't mean to upset you. I sometimes talk to myself, and after your terse response, I couldn't help giving a snarky response or my own."

She was being honest. Her mother always said mumbling to herself like a lunatic would get her in trouble one day.

The Ravenclaw contemplated her for a second, composing his thoughts, he replied.

"It's okay. I was a little rude."

She exhaled slowly, releasing a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"Let's start over." She said with a smile, extending her hand. "I'm Lilith Moon, you can call me Lily."

He grasped her hand and returned in kind. "I'm Harry Potter, you can call me Harry."

"It's a pleasure meeting you Harry. Would you like to work together at the next meeting?"

An even more genuine smile crossed his face as he looked her in the eyes. _"Definitely thinks I'm pretty."_ She thought to herself as they agreed to work together next week.

* * *

The sunny weather saw most of the school taking advantage of a warm Saturday in September.

Harry was rather pleased with himself, he thought as he and Hermione ascended the bleachers of the Quidditch stadium, despite her initial protests he had managed to draw the book-obsessed Gryffindor out of the library.

" _Why_ are we here again?"

"Because it's 21 degrees out, and we have to take a break occasionally." He responded cheerfully, ignoring the frustration evident in her voice.

"And because I've never seen people flying on a broom before. Aren't you a _little_ curious?"

"Well…" she started with a small frown, as a grin began to grow on her face, "Watching the witches fly in the _'Wizard of Oz'_ was _always_ my favorite part of the movie.

Taking a seat midway up in the Hufflepuff section, the two friends fell silent for a few minutes, observing the game above.

"The degree of difficulty in this sport is incredible." he said without looking at her.

He could hear the slight admonishment in her tone and he frowned. In their week studying, and practicing their syllabus together after class, Harry had occasionally felt a slight tinge of annoyance with Hermione's tone.

"Just look at them." He said pointing towards the action. "They're playing a high-speed, violent game over 100 feet off the ground. It's pure chaos up there! I can't even imagine the amount of focus and body control you must have to maintain to be successful." Hermione looked unconvinced.

"Just look at the Gryffindor chasers."

The three girls were currently controlling the quaffle, using a variety of dips and turns to control their pace, weaving in-and-out seamlessly one girl threw a perfect pass to her teammate streaking down the left side of the pitch.

"That pass had to be ten meters! And that quick shimmy and shot? That keeper had no chance!" He couldn't help it, he sounded like a wonder-struck child.

"You may have a point." She replied thoughtfully, as the Weasley twins started aiming bludgers at the combination of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw chasers attempting to work their way up the pitch.

"So." She started, quickly changing topics. "What's the most interesting thing you've seen in the magical world so far?"

"Goblins." He replied without hesitation. "They look exactly like they do in my cousin's movies, except they're meaner, if that's possible."

"They're so rude!" Hermione huffed. "Honestly, you ask them any questions and they get hostile!"

Harry agreed, Flitwick had warned him ahead of time not to ask questions, then explained Gringotts, and a little bit about Goblins.

"What about you?" He asked curiously. _"Probably has something to do with books."_ He thought fondly to himself.

The bushy-haired girl thought for a moment; "Did you know that the library has books that will scream at you, curse you, or otherwise try and do you harm?"

He smiled again. _Figures._ He thought to himself.

Hermione had expanded her reading to include books that weren't on the syllabus ever since he had lent her his copy of ' _Fundamental Magical Theory'_ earlier in the week.

"What _possible_ reason could explain the need for a screaming or cursed book?"

"Or using a quill." Harry mused.

"Exactly!" Her laugh had almost a sarcastic tone to it, making Harry smile softly.

"Or what about pumpkin juice?" "What's wrong with _literally_ any other drink?" he added.

Her face scrunched in disgust; "would it kill them to add some apple juice?"

They were both content to sit quietly for a while after that, and Harry allowed his attention to shift back to the pickup game in front of him.

Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff seeker, was currently going through a series of feints, Slytherins seeker was doing his best to stay on his tale.

' _Diggory's better.'_ Harry realized. Why else would the other seeker rely on the other team to find the snitch.

Deciding to end the silence, Harry changed subjects again; "how's your Herbology project going?" He was curious, he knew that herbology wasn't Hermione's favorite subject, but like him, she had an excellent partner.

"Good! We were assigned Venomous Tentacula. Neville has been a wealth of information."

The two spent the next hour like this, barely noticing that Diggory had caught the snitch half hour prior.

* * *

The third Tuesday in September found Harry with some unexpected free time; having finished his homework he decided to spend the evening in the common room with his dorm mates.

Sitting at a round table near the fire, he joined the group in laughter as a gobstone squirted Terry Boot with a putrid liquid.

Terry was a quiet boy, with an eerie ability read body language. Potions with had shown him that much. Still, without the brunettes help, Harry doubted he would have an 'Exceeds Expectations' in potions.

"Point to me!" Oliver Rivers shouted with glee at Terry's misfortune.

It was good to be taking the night off, he thought to himself as he took his turn.

"So, Harry.." started Michael Corner, with only the slightest hesitation.

In the past few weeks the boys in his dorm seemed to gravitate towards Corner, for some reason or another.

A brief look from Stephen Cornfoot seemed to give Corner the courage to continue.

"What's your story?"

"What do you mean what's my story?" Not entirely sure what the boy was talking about.

Corner gathered his thoughts; "I mean, after you defeated you-know-who, you kind of disappeared. Your sort of this big mystery. Where did you grow up? Why didn't we ever see you before a few weeks ago?"

It was a fair question, he supposed.

"I grew up in the muggle world with my mother's sister and her family. I didn't know about magic till I turned 11."

The group seemed to be confused by this, but it was Rivers that spoke up;

"But _why._ Your parents were being hunted by the dark lord, they _had_ to have a contingency plan."

Harry had thought about that quite a bit; _wasn't there anyone he could have been placed with other than the Dursleys?_

He shrugged. "I don't know. I honestly don't know much about them."

Sensing the looming awkwardness, Michael jumped in, waggling his eyebrows suggestively;

"So, Harry. I noticed you've been spending a lot of time with Lily Moon lately, looking to grab a date with a mysterious Slytherin girl?"

He thought about the black-haired girl. He had initially been hesitant to partner with her at that first dueling club meeting. He didn't necessarily want to ditch Hermione, and after their frosty first encounter, he wasn't sure he wanted to partner with her. But _she_ had asked _him_ , and that feeling of someone _wanting_ to partner with him convinced Harry to give it a shot.

Lily had talent, he quickly realized. Her jelly leg jinx was exceptional, and it took everything he had had to guard against her spells.

He had been nervous that he may have hurt her with his first jelly leg jinx, but a kind smile from the Slytherin girl nixed those thoughts.

They had spent the last couple meetings practicing together, in return she had started sitting with him in astronomy, pointing out things he missed and explaining some of the more complicated concepts.

It was a good partnership.

He idly noticed a strange expression on Goldstein's face at Corner's comment. Foregoing his usual sneer; the boy, he realized, was jealous.

Opting for a quick shrug; "Lily's my friend. I help her in dueling, she makes sure I pass astronomy."

"What's she like?" the soft voice of Stephen Cornfoot asked.

"She's a demanding, impatient, perfectionist." The other boys laughed at his blunt proclamation.

"She's pretty quick to pick things up." The truth is, he loved teaching her, it helped him gain a better understanding of whatever they were working on.

"You keep some strange friends, mate." Corner responded sagely.

"What do you mean?" The look of confusion evident on his face.

"Well Granger _and_ Moon? You keep diverse company. One's a muggleborn, the other as pure as fresh snow."

Harry hadn't really considered that point.

"They're both smart, and nice to be around, I don't see the issue."

It was Terry who responded; "not everyone sees it that way, Harry. Wars have been fought over blood."

* * *

Harry was running _late._ He had been writing an essay on the _'Incendio'_ charm for class and had gotten lost in the possibilities for the basic fire spell.

Exiting a portrait of 'Eupraxia Mole,' he hung a right then a quick left into the charms classroom for his first one on one with Professor Flitwick.

He had heard from Su Li that the hour with Flitwick was a pleasant affair where he would ask you about your classes and how you liked school so far.

Despite Li's reassurances, he _was_ nervous. Hogwarts wasn't particularly good on keeping its students up-to-date on their overall grades, and, unless you were keeping track of your score manually, you had no idea where you stood. The situation had frustrated Hermione so much, the two were now searching for ways to charm a piece of parchment to keep track of their class scores.

Filius Flitwick greeted Harry with a warm smile, light from the fire illuminating his face in the dimly lit room.

"Mr. Potter! Right on time! How's your essay coming?" The charms professors voice seemed to increase an octave as he welcomed him.

"I was just finishing it, sir." "The charm is so useful."

"Yes, the incendio charm is a very basic introduction to a particularly difficult branch of magic." The professor lectured. "More advanced fire spells can be very temperamental, and difficult to control."

Harry filed that information away for later.

"How do you like my class Mr. Potter.? And be honest. You wouldn't be the first Ravenclaw to not like charms." He said with a soft smile.

"I love it. There are so many useful every-day charms. They make life so much easier; and the spells from the syllabus are useful, and tiring."

Flitwick seemed enthused by his answer, and he smiled, a sad smile; "your mother used to sound just like you when she talked about charms. I desperately wanted her to pursue a Master's in charms, but she got pregnant with you and went into hiding soon after." The professor seemed absolutely devastated by this.

"I've been teaching here for twenty-five years, Harry. And I'd be hard-pressed to find a student I enjoyed more than Lily Evans."

"I – I didn't know, you knew my mother…sir." He hadn't learned much about his parents, outside that he had his fathers looks with his mother's emerald green eyes.

"Oh yes. Charming, brilliant, vivacious, and fiercely loyal. Lily Evans made an impression on everyone she met."

Switching topics, the part goblin asked suddenly; "what's the most advanced charm you can perform, Harry?"

Harry thought about it briefly, and pulled out his wand; with a swish, a flick, and a jab he clearly said _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ levitating a quill on his desk a few centimeters off the ground.

"Very good Harry!" The professor beamed. "Concise wand work, and clear enunciation - most impressive!"

Harry smiled with pride. Encouraged by the praise he spoke up again; "sir, if you have a glass, I was able to get the _'Aquamenti'_ charm to work a few days ago."

Flitwick's response was to silently hand him a goblet from behind the desk.

Setting it on a table, Harry closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Visualizing water shooting from his wand, he opened his eyes and tried the spell with no success. He couldn't even feel a change in his magic.

"Your wand work was good." Flitwick mused. "So was your incantation."

Instinctively knowing the next question, Harry walked him through his visualization process.

"Well there's your problem, Harry! When performing the spell, you need to think about the goblet filling with water, you need to ask yourself 'what do I _intend_ for this spell to do.' In this case it's filling this goblet full of water. Let's try it again."

It took two more attempts, but Harry was able to produce a weak stream of water.

Motioning for him to sit, Flitwick continued.

"Your work in charms class has been impressive. By the end of the year, I'd like you to try and get through most of the first term work for next year's charms class. If you can maintain that pace, then at the end of your second year we can discuss putting you on the advanced syllabus. After talking to Minerva and Quirinus, they have asked me to pass along similar messages."

Harry was surprised. He hadn't realized that working with Hermione and Lily had put him so far ahead.

"I see you're doing well in your other classes as well, nothing below an Exceeds Expectations."

He smiled again; between Terry and Lily's help, and being paired with Hannah in herbology, he had been able stay near the top of his year… at least he thought.

The conversation went on pleasantly for another few minutes before Harry got around to asking him about how he could increase his magical strength enough to get placed on the advanced syllabus.

"Well Mr. Potter, there are several ways to increase the potency of your spells. But for your purposes, the most useful exercise would be to come up with a list of no more than 7 spells; cast them in order of increasing difficulty, ending with that aquamenti charm."

Professor Flitwick proceeded to write down a series of directions; mixing transfiguration, charms, and defense against the dark arts spells together in increasing complexity.

"Don't worry about trying to control them perfectly right away, if you are able to, that's wonderful, but focus on making them work first, then turn your attention towards control. Once you can perform the spells with little effort, work on your casting speed. Push yourself until you get tired." He stated, before adding; "do it as often as you can, and I can evaluate your progress at our next meeting."

With that Harry started heading towards the door, before remembering that Hermione wanted to research his special ability.

Turning around he called out; "sir" the charms professor, halfway through his own door, turned around, "do you know anything about magical gifts?"

* * *

Harry tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Hermione to arrive at their table in the library. It wasn't like her to be late, even if it was only five minutes.

"Sorry! I got caught up talking to Lisa Turpin about Mountain Trolls, did you finish your essay for Quirrell yet?" Hermione exclaimed as she arrived at the table a few minutes later.

He idly wondered how she managed to get that all out without taking a breath.

"I finished it during lunch." He replied. "But I have an update on my little ability!"

She gave a confused look for a moment before a look of understanding came across her round face.

"Really! What'd you learn?"

"Professor Flitwick recommended I look up someone called "Claude Delacour" and " _Gifts from Magic"_ by Rasmus Nott. I was thinking I'll take the Delacour guy while you check out that Nott person."

Claude Delacour, as it turned out, had dedicated his life to studying how specific skill-sets passed through families. Flipping to an introductory on "magical gifts," he began to read.

" _A common misconception regarding so-called 'magical gifts' is that they only appear in pureblood families. A more accurate statement would be that these abilities, with rare exception, only appear in children born from two magical parents. While blood purists publicly dispute this claim, privately many families use 'loopholes' to maintain as pure as possible. Many of the more 'traditional' families will quietly introduce a promising halfblood, muggleborn, or sub-human to their lines every couple of generations. In doing this they minimize the amount of time that their families have 'less than pure' blood,' while maximizing their chance of introducing a new talent to their lines."_

So, there _was_ a kernel of truth to Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott's rhetoric.

" _The most common magical gift is animagi, while more uncommon abilities include metamorphagi, empaths, and parselmouths…"_

Harry continued reading for another half hour before a squeal from Hermione caught his attention.

"Harry, I think I found it!" The girl babbled in excitement. "You're a parselmouth!"

He recognized the term from the book he was reading, but the French wizards book was more a general overview of gifts in general, without going into detail about any in particular.

"What's that mean?"

"It means you can talk to snakes! It's _really_ rare."she replied before continuing. "It doesn't really have the best reputation- Salazar Slytherin and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were the two most famous parselmouths, and they both went crazy in the end." She ended with a slight frown, handing him the book.

" _The ability to talk to snakes holds a certain stigma in our history. The gift has long been feared by those with less-open minds. Cowards point to the three most famous, modern examples of parselmouths - Salazar Slytherin, Herpo the Foul, and the Dark Lord Voldemort - and associate the ability with evil. The secretive nature of those with the ability means we don't have a clear understanding of parselmouths. However, the more educated members of society correctly point to the serpent historically representing healing in many cultures, leading many to speculate on the healing potential of parselmouths."_

Rereading the passage for a third time, Harry frowned, not even wanting to contemplate the mess he would be in if this ability became public knowledge.

"I found a spell to summon a snake." Hermione quietly said from behind a book. "Do you want to go try it out?"

' _Serpensortia!"_ Harry bellowed.

Immediately a small garter snake flew out his wand.

" _What do you want!"_ The serpent hissed menacingly.

Slightly taken aback, he subconsciously heard himself hiss in reply. " _Sorry to disturb you, I just wanted to try something."_

" _Well put me back!"_ was the snakes curt reply, before he cancelled the spell.

"What did he say?" He was pleased to see Hermione was more interested than scared.

"He just wanted to know why he was summoned. Then asked to be put back. I told him I just wanted to try something."

She thought for a moment; "what are you going to do?" she asked.

He sighed; "probably nothing. It doesn't seem to be particularly useful, but I would like to keep it quiet, I don't need to draw that kind of attention."

She nodded. "As long as we're here, would you mind helping me with transfiguration?"

* * *

The weather was _stifling_ she thought to herself in disgust. Between the heat and humidity, Bellatrix Lestrange couldn't understand why anyone would live in this cesspool.

She had taken a portkey from her small villa in Nesebar with beautiful views of the Black Sea, not for the first time she mentally thanked her grandfather for willing her the property, to the middle of the bloody Amazon earlier that morning. Before making the frustrating _trek_ into the lair of the world's most notorious necromancer.

Getting to Marcel DuPont's isolated hell-hole east of Cochabamba had taken way too much effort and had darkened her already dour mood; it didn't help that the frustrating man had sent one of his disciples to fetch her at the door.

"Bellatrix Lestrange." The man greeted her with a curt bow.

Schooling her emotions with occlumency, ' _it wouldn't due to lose your temper now, Bellatrix.'_

"Marcel DuPont, thank you for having me."

She stealthily took in her surroundings; they were seated in a fenced in room overlooking the rainforest. A disgusting bug the size of her forearm chose that moment to crash into the wards, dying instantly. She couldn't keep the disgust off her face.

"I was surprised to receive your missive." The pale, portly man replied.

Soul magic was one of the only branches of magic that took a physical toll on the users' appearance, blood magic was another. The older wizard had dabbled in enough of both over the years to have a very noticeable effect, his sickly appearance reminded her of her Lord's. She idly wondered if DuPont had gone to the same extremes.

"And I was surprised you wanted to meet in Bolivia."

Giving no physical reaction, the necromancer replied.

"There is no government here." He stated as though she was an imbecile. "I am left alone to work in peace."

That much was true enough. This part of South America lacked any formal government, the heathens operated primarily in tribes. It was no wonder half the continent was living in the dark ages; still, the lack of formal government meant the ICW had no authority, and she could see the appeal in that.

"I've heard some interesting stories about you, Bellatrix Lestrange. Tell me, how did you escape?" His tone was soft, but deadly. She could recognize the challenge in his tone.

"I prepare better than my colleagues. I don't leave anything to _chance."_ She replied; equally calm, equally deadly.

"What of my old friend Ophelia? I had heard you killed her?"

"She found out something she shouldn't have." She dismissed. "She left me no choice."

Marcel frowned, but didn't press the issue.

"I've heard Gringotts has froze your accounts, but I can't imagine you came all this way for gold."

That was true. While she couldn't access her vaults, Narcissa provided her with enough gold to live off.

"No, I didn't."

Suddenly serious, DuPont pushed his drink aside and leaned across the table. She didn't flinch, Marcel DuPont was nothing compared to her Lord.

"Then why _are_ you here, Bellatrix Lestrange?" The older man snarled.

"My associates and I could benefit from your particular skill-set." She replied, happily getting to the point.

"We need help controlling a large group of inferi that are linked to another signature."

"Is it safe to assume they are connected to the Dark Lord?" the French wizard stated more than asked.

"Yes."

"And why would I help your Dark Lord?"

A devious smile came across her full lips; "Lucius has worked hard to change the political climate in France."

For the first time that night, Marcel DuPont smiled.

"And where are your Dark Lords inferi?"

Now it was her turn to smile.

" _Azkaban."_

* * *

His first experience with inter-house competition was _exciting._

That afternoon Harry had sat in the Gryffindor section with Hermione to watch the Lions take on the Badgers in the first quidditch match of the year.

Prior to the match they had cast warming charms on themselves, while Harry a applied basic sticking charm to his glasses to protect him from the harsh elements; something Hermione had noted, the players had to do without.

Hufflepuff ended up blowing Godric's house out, 210-60. The score had been deceptive, Harry felt; Oliver Wood had been outstanding defending the hoops, and the Weasley twins had been equally brilliant in their aim and execution. But none of that made up for the fact that neither Katie Bell, a second-year chaser; nor Cormac Mclaggen, the teams new seeker, had ever played a game before.

That evening, after dinner, the school concluded the double header with a dueling tournament.

"Honestly, Neville. You just need to practice more! Use part of your allowance on extra potions ingredients and I can help you!"

The pudgy black-haired boy wore a look of mock horror; "and give up Sugar Quills! Are you mad?"

"I'm with Neville on this one, Hermione; have you ever _tried_ a Chocolate Frog?" He shared a look with Neville, they'd got her wound up.

"You two are insufferable!" She pouted as they entered the dueling hall.

The hall itself had four dueling pits, each with a set of bleachers. After checking the schedule to see where the sixth and seventh years would be dueling, the trio headed to the largest section of bleachers, sitting as close to the safety wards as possible.

"Come off it Hermione. He's paired with you! I'm sure Neville will learn by through observation!"

"I _am_ more of a visual learner, Hermione." Neville quipped with an amused look.

"Well what happens when I can't be your partner anymore, Neville? We're in potions until _at least_ fifth year."

"Quite trying to dampen the mood, Hermione! I'll worry about that day when it comes!"

Hermione gave up her protests with a laugh.

A few rows down, Harry noticed Lily talking to a dark-skinned boy he recognized as Blaise Zabini.

Almost as if she knew he was watching, she caught his eye, offering a warm smile before returning to her conversation. Before turning his attention back to his group, he could have sworn he saw the Italian boy and Lily glance at him quickly.

"So," he heard Hermione start, "how does this work?" Hermione had only attended the first dueling club, determining she had better things to do.

Before Harry could begin to answer, Neville, surprisingly, chirped up.

"Have you read anything about dueling tournaments?" The budding herbologist asked.

"Not really." Hermione's face had reddened slightly at the admission.

"Dueling on a professional or international level is a purely individual sport. A win is a win, the rules are simple; don't kill your opponent." Neville seemed excited as he explained the sport with gusto.

' _I never would have imagined that the kid who was pants with a wand would be so excited by dueling…. Maybe he's jealous?'_

"Hogwarts follows the international school standards for dueling." Neville pushed through quickly, cutting off her inevitable torrent of questions.

"Those standards call for the student body to create four distinct teams. Each team must have at least one representative from second year on up, but each team can roster up to three."

Hermione seemed a little more interested; "but why would a team ever roster only one representative?"

"Unlike a professional duel, a victory is worth 10 points; both to the individual and the team. But a loss is ten points against both you and your house. Take Hufflepuff, for example; they only have one seventh year representative, she's brilliant, but they're basically conceding that they have nobody else good enough to compete against the other houses," Neville added, "although I heard Diggory is pretty good for a third year."

"So, there is a bit of strategy then." Hermione nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"Yep, there's three tournaments throughout the year, each duelist competes in three duels per tournament, and they must fight every-other duelist at least once throughout the year. Then the individual champion from each year represents their school at the European Championships this summer, I think it's at Durmstrang this year."

' _I didn't know that.'_

"Neville how do you know so much about dueling? He asked.

The pudgy boy shrugged. "My dad was European Champion his sixth year. Growing up my gran would take me to all these tournaments and I sorta fell in love with it."

"Not quidditch?" Hermione asked.

"Gran says quidditch is for pussies."

The final duel of the evening saw most of the school, including the staff in attendance.

Head Boy, and fellow Ravenclaw, Marcus Belby was taking on defending Hogwarts champion, seventh year Nymphadora Tonks.

The Ravenclaw and the Hufflepuff offered each other a quick bow before settling in, waiting for the go-ahead to begin.

"Look at Belby's stance!" He heard Goldstein say from somewhere to his left; " _very_ nicely balanced; the Puff doesn't have a chance!"

Goldstein fancied himself a dueling prodigy; _'maybe I should try out for the team next year,"_ he mused, _'knock him down a peg or two.'_

"You're not thinking clearly, Anthony." Ernie Macmillan replied.

"Look at her stance, look at her record! Your boy is outmatched!"

Harry couldn't help but agree with Ernie. The athletic brunette was in a low crouch, minimizing herself as a target, toes pointed forward as she bounced on the balls of her feet with her wand pointed forward, ready to strike. Nymphadora Tonks looked dangerous.

"Doesn't her stance look familiar to anyone else?" Goldstein had taken on an accusatory tone.

"Lots of people emulate that stance, Goldstein." He heard Daphne Greengrass reply, venom in her voice, "it doesn't mean we're all _her."_ The girl spat.

"Of course, _you_ would say that _Greengrass."_ His roommate sneered back.

But before the pureblood witch could respond, the horn had buzzed, announcing the start of the duel.

Almost immediately the Hufflepuff witch lunged forward from the back of her circle, silently sending a volley of stunners and reductors at Belby.

" _Contego"_ he heard the boy say, conjuring a bright silver shield.

' _Contego'_ Harry wrote down in his notebook, reminding himself to look up the spell later.

Dropping the shield, the Head Boy lunged forward to attack, sending a half-dozen daggers at his opponent, immediately following those up with a trio of stunners.

Briefly leaving her crouch to banish the arrows, Tonks dodged the stunners with ease, conjuring a small black bear and directing it at Belby, who decapitated it with ease, only to be hit with a dark purple spell in his left shoulder.

"I bet you recognize that spell, _Greengrass._ Pretty cruel for a friendly duel."

A slight frown appeared on her chubby face as she rolled her eyes; "this isn't a _friendly_ duel, Goldsmith. It's a competition, that spell is perfectly legal."

Harry smirked at the slight as Belby took care of whatever he had been hit with and had directed a swarm of bees and half dozen sickly yellow spells.

"Belby's getting tired." He heard Neville state, his eyes never leaving the duel. "He's using his finishers."

After taking care of the bees with a burst of fire, the dangerous looking badger chose to shield for the first time since the duel began, producing a familiar bright silver shield, although he absentmindedly noticed she did so silently.

The spells reverberated throughout the hall as they crashed into her shield.

Crouching back into her aggressive stance, Tonks sent an aggressive set of spells at the tired and injured Ravenclaw, bursting through his shields and knocking him out of the dueler's circle, Tonks was declared the winner.

' _I'm definitely trying out for the team next year.'_

* * *

The weather had been surprisingly nice for October, prior to that morning at least. Wet snow mixing with the soft dirt had created a muddy path back towards the castle.

Harry was leaving herbology a little early; having got a pass from Madam Pomfrey to visit the medical wing that afternoon.

His progress in herbology had been progressing nicely.

Hannah Abbott had proven to be quite a contrast to Lily Moon when it came to teaching styles. Where the later was demanding, peppering Harry with astronomy questions throughout class and expecting perfect answers. The former was calm and patient, taking time to explain the importance of each step in potting their devils snare.

The waiting room in the medical wing was...comfortable, if not a bit crowded; Harry decided.

Several soft-looking chairs lined the walls of the rectangular room and a variety of moving pictures adorned an assortment of magazines next to the nurse's desk.

He noticed a familiar shade of blonde hair in a corner and was surprised to see the normally confident Slytherin with a look of worry on her face.

' _I wonder what's wrong with her?'_

On a whim he decided to take a seat across from the Gryffindor beaters in front of him.

' _A month ago, I wouldn't have done this.'_ He thought. _'It's funny how much you can change in such a short period of time.'_

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked, pointing his thumb at the twin who had somehow managed to grow skin over his mouth.

Mischief danced in the other twin's eyes; "experiment gone wrong. My brother can't control his spells."

The other twin was gesturing wildly at them, poorly trying to convey some message to him.

"I'm Harry Potter." He extended his hand to introduce himself.

"Fred Weasley," the twin who could talk, replied shaking his hand, "and that idiot is George."

George stood up at the introduction, stumbling as he took the deepest bow Harry had even seen. Causing him to laugh as Fred rolled his eyes.

"So, what were you trying to do?" He asked.

"We were trying to create a replica of this thing we found." The lanky Gryffindor answered evasively.

The twins were entertaining, Harry thought to himself as Healer Adams lead him into an examination room a quarter hour later.

Even if one of them couldn't talk.

* * *

It was the last Tuesday in October and Harry and Hermione had found themselves in a familiar unused classroom.

The two had fallen into an unspoken routine. Before dinner they would practice practical magic in their classroom for an hour, separate for dinner, then do their homework together in the library.

"I just can't get the spell to work, Potter! I'm following your instructions, and can feel it _wanting_ to work, I'm just not there yet."

"Aquamenti is a difficult spell, Hermione. We don't learn it for a while, you have plenty of time."

"But you can do it!" She snapped. He admired her competitiveness.

Although neither would admit it, they both wanted to be better than the other. Her competitiveness pushed him to be better.

"I also practice the practical side of things more than you, Hermione." He repeated for what he felt was the thousandth time.

She bit her lip in contemplation; "you said Flitwick gave you some sort of spell routine? Could you teach me?"

Harry was happy to oblige. At his second meeting with his head of house, he had impressed the charms professor with his progress, and he had added three spells to his list - bringing his total to ten.

"The first thing you need to do is write down a list of seven spells," he began to explain, "they should be performed in order of easiest to most difficult. The first spell or two should be something from the syllabus that you should be pretty confident with, the next handful should be spells or transfigurations that you are less confident in, then end with a spell you can't even do."

To help her confidence, Harry added; "last month when I first started my last spell aquamenti."

"What is it now?"

"The stunner." He smirked proudly; the prior day Flitwick had added _'bombarda,'_ the reductor curse, and _'stupefy'_ to his list. And although he hadn't been able to cast the last two, the confidence his professor had shown in his abilities was inspiring.

"Has it had any noticeable affect?"

Harry shook his head enthusiastically; "Absolutely. I've been a lot less tired after class.

"Show me." Hermione demanded.

He was getting fast, he thought to himself as he completed the 8 spells he could get through in a little over 90 seconds.

An hour later Harry's stomach _growled_ as Hermione successfully completed the disarming charm, the fifth spell on his original list.

' _Tempus'_

"Ughh." He groaned. "Guess we're not getting dinner."

Hermione stared at him with a thoughtful look on her face; "not necessarily."

"So how do you know where the kitchens are?" Harry asked as they made their way down a hallway lined with portraits of food.

"The Weasley twins." Was her quick response. At his questioning look, she quickly turned red; "I had gotten into the habit of studying through lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays, my free period is before lunch and sometimes I get lost in my work."

That still didn't explain the Weasley connection, but he let her continue.

"I didn't want to make a choice between lunch and studying, so I thought I'd try and find the kitchens. It was obvious to ask the Weasley twins."

"Why's that?" He answered, thinking of the pair of gingers he had met the other day.

"Well their older brother is a fifth-year prefect," admiration was apparent in his friend's voice, "and he warned all the first years about Fred and George. Apparently, they know every secret of Hogwarts and like to prank people. When I remembered that, I thought 'who better to ask?'"

He couldn't fault that logic, he thought as they stopped in front of a portrait of a large bowl of fruit.

"Tickle the pear, Harry."

' _What an absurd direction.'_ He thought to himself as he humored the girl, tickling the fruit softly.

To his surprise, the pear laughed, revealing a door knob.

' _Amazing.'_

Stepping through the doorway, Harry was met with a jarring seen. Hundreds of wrinkly, green creatures scurried wildly about the largest kitchen he had even seen.

"Can Tinky be helping Misses Grangy?" one of the tiny creatures asked the girl.

Hermione, for her part, looked slightly uncomfortable before crouching down to look the tiny demon in the eye. "Table and dinner for two please Tinky."

The green thing grabbed Hermione's hand, dragging her to a table in the corner.

"House Elves." Hermione frowned. "Their magic is tied to serving others. They run most wizarding households, including Hogwarts."

Five minutes later they were both eating beef stew in a comfortable silence.

"Do you ever think about what you want to accomplish?" He asked Hermione softly.

She thought for a long moment before responding; "I used to want to be a doctor, or an engineer. But I don't know anymore, this place is so different - I haven't felt comfortable enough to think about it, yet."

"What about you?" Curiosity evident in her voice.

"I don't know what I want to _do,_ " he responded, "I know who I want to _be_ though."

All my life I had been an afterthought, all I had ever wanted was a little bit of recognition. Then I come here, and I'm known for a fluke.

I want to _earn_ be recognition, I want to _be_ somebody." There was no doubt Hermione could hear the determination in his voice.

"So, we're going to be on the advanced syllabus together, right?"

"Absolutely!" He laughed. "Who else would challenge you if I weren't there?"

The two were wrapping up their dinner some time later, and Hermione had been quiet far too quiet, something obviously on her mind.

Finally, she seemed to work up her nerve; "Harry, I know you're not going home for the holidays," she was nervous, looking anywhere but at him, "well I wrote to my parents, and they would be happy if you stayed with us...if you want."

He was so happy he nearly cried; he had never celebrated Christmas before.

"I'd love to." The two smiled at each other, each heading towards their separate common rooms.

* * *

"Oh come off it Stephen!" Corner cried out. "There's _nothing_ there!"

Harry laughed. Ever since they're initial gobstones game in September, he had taken to spending more time in the common room with his roommates, even he and Goldstein had fallen into a quiet truce.

"I don't know, Corner, you didn't see her face when you fell off your broom." Harry teased. She looked like her puppy had just died!

"And afterwards!" Oliver Rivers jumped in. " _Oh Michael, are you okay?"_ Rivers voice got unusually high in a poor imitation of Megan Jones.

"Just admit it mate, you're going to marry her." Terry added from the back, igniting Michaels cheeks.

Entering the classroom, Harry took his normal seat next to Terry in Defense Against the Dark Arts, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy give him a small smirk.

' _What's that about?'_ He frowned. It wasn't the first time he had caught the white-haired Slytherin smirking at him, and he couldn't understand why. It's not like he had ever talked to the boy.

He rubbed his forehead out of habit as Professor Quirrell began his lecture, he always seemed to develop a headache towards the end of the day. He mentally added ' _ask Terry to teach me how to brew a pain relief potion'_ to his ever-growing list of things to do, and sighed. There wasn't nearly enough time in the day.

Shifting his focus back to the professor's lecture, he began to jot down some interesting notes;

"By far the most dangerous creature you will find in the Forbidden Forest is the Acromantula.." The professor stuttered…

The class was finishing up their month on creatures they may encounter in the forest backing up to the Great Lake, and last on their list was a giant, flesh eating spider that lived, and hunted in packs.

"Despite producing some of the finest silk in the world," Quirrell gestured to his own robes as an example, "If you see an Acromantula, you should run. If forced to confront an Acromantula, you should cast your strongest fire spell… although an incendio won't do much."

This year's DADA curriculum was divided into nine sections; one topic a month with a test at the end. September was spent studying basic hexes and curses, while November would promise an introduction to cursed objects - October was being spent studying the plethora of dangerous creatures found in the Forbidden Forest.

Regardless of his slight stutter, and slightly monotone voice, Professor Quirrell was a pretty good teacher, he had decided. Quirrell was even more demanding than Lily, and certainly knew his subject, easily answering their questions and directing them to additional reading.

' _Yes,'_ he thought to himself, _'there could be worse professors.'_ He thought, mentally bringing up an image of the surly potions master.

Despite the headache, Harry found himself enjoying the class.

* * *

He hated Halloween.

Growing up with the Dursleys he had never been allowed to participate in the annual festivities; forced to watch his cousin stuff his face with candy he had stolen from the smaller children who were unfortunate enough to cross his path.

The Dursleys, had made the holiday _unpleasant._

But it hadn't been till he was told the significance Halloween had on his life that he understood that the holiday was the cause of his misery.

His conversations with Professor Flitwick about his parents had stirred a feeling within him that he had never felt - longing for his parents. The charms professor dazzled him with stories about his mother's wit, and his father's ability to make people laugh, happily showing him pictures of a young James and Lily Potter.

Harry had wondered out loud about possible godparents. To his dismay, he received only a peculiar look, and a quick change of topic. Assuming the worst, he had decided to let it die, for the moment.

Harry looked around the charms classroom with a bored expression plastered to his face. He had mastered the first-year syllabus a week ago, and the class was _just_ learning how to levitate a feather.

To his amusement, Hermione had taken it upon herself to try and help a struggling Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas. Neither seemed very receptive of her help.

"Come off it, Hermione." Lavender Brown proclaimed, rolling her eyes. "They didn't do the reading, they don't know what they're doing."

Turning back to his desk, he began levitating his book a few centimeters off the ground, holding it for as long as he could before releasing the charm and trying again.

"Very good, Mr. Potter! 5 points to Ravenclaw for such exceptional control of the levitation charm!"

Harry smiled in appreciation at his favorite professor as the bell rang.

Harry saw the last of Hermione's disappearing bookbag running around the corner as he exited the charms classroom.

"What happened?" He asked the group of first year Gryffindor girls.

"Ron and Dean mocked Hermione after she tried to help her, they told her it was no wonder she didn't have any friends."

 _Anger._ That was the first emotion that crossed his mind as he sent a look of pure loathing towards the boys. He _wanted_ to hurt them, hurt them like they had hurt her. Resisting the urge to curse them on the spot ' _no need to deal with them right now'_ , he took off in Hermione's direction.

Hanging a left, he saw a group of girls he vaguely recognized as the Gryffindor chasers;

"Have you seen Hermione Granger?" He sputtered.

"She ran towards the bathroom." A short witch answered, pointing towards the dungeons.

He was running so fast he initially ran past the bathroom. Righting his course, he tried to quell his rising anger; ' _she doesn't need me to be angry.'_ He thought to himself.

Taking a deep breath, Harry entered the girl's bathroom to the sound of soft sobs coming from the farthest stall.

"Hermione." He called out tentatively.

"Go away, Harry."

"Come on Hermione, I'm your _friend._ Ron and Dean are jealous tossers, you know that!"

"No, they're right," she cried, exiting the stall unshed tears in her eyes, "I'm a bloody know-it-all! Nobody likes a know-it-all!"

"I do." Was his quiet response. "I like the way you push me, I like that I have a friend to talk advanced magic with, I like being your friend."

Seeming to calm down a bit, Hermione slid her back down the stone wall, stretching her legs out in defeat.

Joining her on the ground; Hermione was looking across the room at the bathroom door. With a slight tremble in her voice, she began to speak softly.

"When I was seven, my parents signed me up for dance at a local studio," seemingly overcoming some personal demons, she took a breath and continued, "I was never interested in dance, but they were worried that I lacked social skills, and thought dance would be a great way for me to make friends."

Harry was looking at her, absorbing her words.

"It turns out I'm pretty terrible at it. I lack the coordination to be naturally good like some girls, and I lacked the determination to improve like the others.

I quickly became a target.

The girls used to trip me, hide my shoes, and mock me during lessons. At first, I really wanted to be their friend, so I did what I always do, and read a book on the subject.

One day one of the better girls in the class saw my book and took it from my bag. They played keep away with it for a while as they called me all sorts of mean names, eventually making me dig through the dumpster outside to retrieve the library book.

I cried for two days after that."

Harry was fighting back tears at this point, searching for anything that could make her feel better.

"Growing up I didn't know who I was. My aunt and uncle treated me like scum," he wasn't telling her anything she hadn't heard, yet, "they spent the better part of ten years alternating between neglecting me, publicly humiliating me, and verbally abusing me - calling me _freak_ and treating me like a house-elf."

Hermione was looking at him softly now.

"They never hit me," he said, answering her unanswered question, "but they never prevented Dudley from hurting me either."

He hadn't been aware that he had been pacing the bathroom till he saw Hermione moving towards him slowly.

The next thing he knew, they were in a firm embrace.

"Harr-" her response was cut off by the sound of the bathroom door flying off its hinges. Hermione screamed, and before he had a chance to turn around, she was being held by a massive green fist.

Facing the creature for the first time, he immediately recognized the gigantic warts and sallow green skin.

" _What is a Mountain Troll doing in Hogwarts?"_

Thinking back to their previous DADA lesson on trolls, he was more than a little scared, the skin of a troll was magic resistant - to a point.

He avoided the trolls foot as it tried to stomp him to death, quickly casting every spell he knew at the murderous beast to no avail.

Taking a deep breath, and throwing all his emotion behind his spell, Harry yelled out " _stupefy!"_ A bright blue light jumped out of his wand smacking the troll right on the cheek.

More annoyed than bothered, the green monster dropped Hermione on the ground with a loud _thud._

He stared in horror as Hermione was barely moving on the ground in front of him.

In his distracted state, he didn't see the trolls hand as he backhanded him in the ribs, knocking his wand away in the process.

Spitting up blood Harry grabbed his wand, from the ground he launched a series of gurgled stinging hexes.

No longer facing a slowly recovering Hermione, the troll's attention was focused entirely on him. Rolling out of the way as the beast tried in vain to stomp him to death for a second time, he noticed that Hermione was back on her feet casting spells, causing the troll to focus on her again.

"No Hermione" he tried to yell, but his mouth was too full of blood to get the words out.

With his long arms, the cruel creature batted Hermione against the stone wall with a sickening crunch, Harry watched in terror as Hermione's head caved in, leaving a trail of blood and gore on the wall.

He vaguely heard spell fire coming from behind him, with tears streaming down his face, the last thought he had before losing consciousness was;

 _My friend is dead._

 **A/N: Pace will pick up a bit now; one more chapter in Y1, then two each in Y2 and Y3.**

 **Next Up: Harry, and the school, cope with the aftermath.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** If I owned HP then I wouldn't be writing fanfiction, I'd be living on my private island in the Caribbean.

 **A/N:** As always, this chapter has only been beta'd by me, so all mistakes are my own.

I've received messages on why Hermione had to die; the simple answer is that to create the Harry I want, then Harry needed more tragedy in his life.

* * *

Fawkes deposited him in his private chambers and he sighed. "What a tragedy." Albus Dumbledore said more to himself than the Phoenix sitting on a perch to his right. He had just spent the evening with Nigel and Rebecca Granger.

The two dentists had been devastated upon receiving the news of their only child's death. He imagined that the entire ordeal must have seemed like a nightmare gone wrong for the two muggles who, until a few hours ago had no-idea of the existence of trolls.

Pouring a glass of brandy, and stepping into his office, the headmaster wasn't the least bit surprised to see his potions master had made himself comfortable.

"Good evening, Severus." Dumbledore greeted without his usual cheeriness.

"I assume you've heard the terrible news?" The question was rhetorical, he knew Minerva had informed the staff of that evening's tragedy.

"I have."

"And do you have any theories on how a Mountain Troll was able to make its way to the dungeons?" While the Forbidden Forest backed up to the Scottish Highlands, he had rarely seen the creatures travel past the Centaurs, let alone make it all the way to the castle.

A slight flicker of trepidation crossed the potion master's face, and Albus had to fight the urge to tell the man to just let it out.

"Recently I attended a meeting with Lucius in Knockturn Alley." Severus responded.

' _I wasn't aware the first week of September constituted as 'recent'_ he mused.

After all these years he wasn't entirely sure what to think of the former Death Eater. The man hadn't seeked his protection till the very end of Voldemort's reign, and even then, Severus hadn't sought him out of remorse.

"And what did Lucius have to say?"

"He is starting to prepare for _his_ return." he didn't have to ask who Snape was referring to.

"So, he believes Voldemort's return is imminent?"

"He does." The younger man confirmed. "He has tasked me to obtain a list of ingredients and prepare several potions for the inevitable."

The elderly man stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Did Lucius disclose any other details?"

"He did not. Although he did confirm that Quirrell is involved."

He showed no reaction at Snape's statement. The Board of Governors had forced Quirinus on him after Thaddeus Mcfadden's unfortunate accident in Berlin over the summer. Despite Quirrell's very average qualifications, he had no choice but to acquiesce to the Board.

"I've observed him for several weeks," Snape continued, "I believe that the Dark Lord has somehow managed to gain influence over Quirrell."

"And it is your belief that Quirrell deliberately led the troll into Hogwarts?"

"It is."

"Tell me Severus," Albus started, seemingly changing subjects; "how is it that Voldemort has managed to exist all these years?"

Despite all his knowledge, the headmaster had to admit that he didn't know everything, and Severus Snape's experience with the darker aspects of magic was extensive.

"Based on the tasks I have been assigned, I have determined that the Dark Lord's plan isn't a resurrection, but a way to create a vessel that can support a soul." The man frowned before continuing; "I can only determine that when the Dark Lord tried to kill Potter, his soul was somehow ripped from his body, rendering him as some sort of bodiless wraith."

Albus was only mildly surprised by the man's conclusion. Without access to Albus's own resources, it would be all but impossible for Snape to confirm his theory.

"Have you ever heard of a Horcrux, Severus?"

The man gave a slight shake of his head, so he continued.

"I believe that in the years before his death, Voldemort was able to successfully transfer several pieces of his soul to several inanimate objects, in case of his demise."

No emotion registered on Snape's face as he processed the news. "How does a Horcrux work?"

He sighed. "The truth is, very little is known about Horcruxes, and even less is known about how one is used." Reaching into his top desk drawer; he grabbed a thin, worn book and passed it across the desk.

"The only example of a Horcrux being used in practice, that I have found, was created by 'Herpo the Foul.' About 50 years after his defeat, a man named Theon Ramsay appeared claiming he was the dark lord."

Seeing he had Snape's attention he continued.

"While he was unable to convince anyone of his true identity, he maintained his claim till the day he died." Gesturing towards the book that Severus was now holding, "Theon documented the process in that book."

"According to Theon; he had spent decades as a weak shade, after some time he was able to possess small animals, and eventually he gained the strength to completely take over a local wizard's body.

He describes the process of dominating the wizard as difficult. His piece of soul was fighting the other wizard's whole, if Theon Ramsay is to be believed than after some time the piece of soul belonging to 'Herpo the Foul' was able to successfully dominate that of the weaker man."

To his chagrin, Snape looked more interested than disgusted. "So, if your theory is correct, then the Dark Lord has retrieved a horcrux, and already completely possessed Quirrell?"

"Not quite. I believe that Quirrell is still wrestling for control of his body. If not, I'm fairly certain that Voldemort would be moving on to his next objective."

"Then why are you allowing him to remain at Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore pondered the question. "It is my belief that Voldemort has hidden a horcrux within the school, it would be pointless to take action without identifying his horcrux beforehand. I am, however, monitoring Quirrell's movements." He said, tapping the worn piece of parchment on his desk with his wand.

Albus watched as his potions master nodded his head curtly. "Be careful, headmaster. My old colleagues have been rather excitable lately." The man said as he excused himself.

* * *

Harry had avoided the common room for the last few days, but now that the weekend was coming to an end, he was forced to face his roommates.

He had walked into lunch on November 1st to nervous stares and whispers. Apparently, it hadn't taken long for Katie Bell to remember that she had told Harry where to find Hermione, only minutes before her death. And while nobody had accused him of killing Hermione yet, it was only a matter of time until someone grew bold enough to proclaim him a murderer.

The worst part is he had nobody to talk to. Nobody to share his grief with. Nobody to tell him it wasn't his fault.

He'd never felt so alone.

Growing up with the Dursleys had taught him how to be alone; but it wasn't till he met Hermione that he understood the difference between being alone and _feeling_ alone. He had had someone to laugh with, to do homework with, and to confide in - now he'd never see that person again, and he didn't know what to do.

Harry had felt so _hopeless_ against that troll. He'd thrown every spell he had known and seen no results. His weakness cost Hermione her life.

Wiping a tear from his cheek, Harry composed himself, answered the riddle, and entered Ravenclaw tower.

He had barely walked through the door when Goldstein started on him;

"So, the murderer returns." The boy said loudly, drawing attention to Harry.

And there it was. Someone had finally accused him of killing Hermione. Anger started to build inside him. ' _How could he accuse me of murder?'_

"What the hell are you talking about, _Goldstein_?" he sneered; half the common room was paying attention now, ' _better make a statement while I can,'_ he thought to himself.

"Hermione was my best friend. You have no idea what happened."

"I know that you were seen going into the girl's bathroom, and a few minutes later a student was dead."

"Come off it Anthony." Corner pleaded from his side. "Harry didn't kill Hermione, you heard what Dumbledore said."

"Then he was too incompetent to stop it." Goldstein replied thoughtfully.

Harry's rage boiled over and he nearly cursed him on the spot. " _Fuck you,_ Goldstein."

Gripping his wand, he took another step towards the boy.

"I threw _every_ spell I knew at that troll, that's at least twice as many as you even know - nothing worked!

The black-haired boy scoffed; "a braggart as always, Potter."

"What's your problem with me Goldstein? You hate me, and we barely even know each other."

"You're a show-off Potter! Always the first to get things right in class, walking around like you're better than everyone else! I'm sick of it!"

"Bullshit Goldstein. You've been glaring at me since before classes even started."

"You're delusional, Potter." Goldstein spat as Corner tried to drag him towards the dorms. "Are you really so self-absorbed that you think people are always thinking about you?"

"You sneered at me and didn't introduce yourself on the first night, and since then you've done your best to belittle me every chance you get. You're the one with the problem, Goldstein. Not me."

He saw him about to respond, before settling for a glare, following Corner into the first-year dorms.

' _Did everyone feel the way Goldstein did?'_ He thought to himself.

"Do you think I'm a murderer, Boot?" He said quietly, turning to the only other Ravenclaw first year around.

"Of course not." His reply was quick and certain.

"But you don't blame me?" Harry said, a bit of hope creeping into his voice.

"Of course, I don't, I don't think anybody really expected you to be able to stop a troll. Anthony just doesn't like you."

"Do you know why, though? I was being honest with him, we've barely said a word to each other."

Terry sat down on the leather couch next to him.

"Your grandfather, Fleamont, was supposed to go into business with Anthony's grandfather in the 1960's." Boot explained. "Fleamont backed out after he had a chance to ride one of Devlin Whitehorn's brooms."

"I guess I don't understand why that's still a big deal."

Terry was looking at him like he was an idiot; "of course it's a big deal! Antonio Goldstein tried to sue Devlin, saying he stole his prototype. Your Grandfather sided with Whitehorn in the Wizengamot, after previously agreeing to support the Goldstein's, then he went and bought a minority stake in Nimbus! If the Potter's had only backed out of the business deal and NOT sided with Whitehorn in court, then the Goldstein family would probably have won their lawsuit, and there would be no grudge. But since your family not only backed out, they sided with someone the Goldstein's thought was a thief, they hate you. The Potter's contributed to them losing out on millions of galleons."

"And that's my fault?" He said, confused.

"Of course not. But they've never recovered, and the two of you share a dorm."

"But that was thirty years ago! Why is it _still_ an issue?" How could someone hate him for something that occurred before he was born?

"Do you know how big the wizarding world is, Harry?" Terry asked.

Seeing a shake of his head, Terry continued. "There are roughly ten thousand witches and wizards in Britain."

Harry was surprised, he had just assumed that wizarding Britain had more people.

"While there are billions of muggles in the world, there are probably less than a million witches and wizards alive today."

"But what's that have to do with my family and the Goldstein's?" He clearly wasn't grasping the other boys point.

"The economy is much smaller than the muggle world, and the older families – like yours, control a large majority of the wealth. There aren't many opportunities for families to improve their finances, so when your grandfather backed out on Antonio Goldstein, the entire family suffered, and they haven't recovered."

Harry looked surprised, he never would have considered that.

"You don't know much about the wizarding world, do you?" Terry stated.

Harry felt the heat in his cheeks and nodded.

"I can help you fill in the gaps if you help me in transfiguration?" Boot said hopefully.

He thought about it for a brief second before smiling. "Sounds like a deal."

* * *

Harry was lost. Twenty minutes ago, he had exited a secret passage that had led him to an unfamiliar part of the castle.

Empty portraits and unused classrooms made this part of the school seem like an abandoned building, he thought to himself.

Not that he minded; the last week and a half had been difficult; between the wary looks and quiet whispers directed his way, the lack of life in this part of the castle had suited him just fine.

Lost in his thoughts as he turned a corner, he was greeted by the sight of Albus Dumbledore, who was seemingly inspecting a portrait of two drunk wizards attempting to duel.

"Ahh Harry, just the person I was looking for!" The headmaster exclaimed without turning around.

How Dumbledore could possibly be looking for him while strolling empty corridors was lost on him, but he greeted the ancient wizard warmly nonetheless.

"Good afternoon, Headmaster."

The man in front of him was ancient; adorned in bright yellow robes with black stripes, the man looked like an overgrown bumblebee.

"It's not often students wander to this part of the castle." The headmaster stated, leaving him to answer the unasked question.

"I got lost," he replied with a shrug, "where are we?"

"We are on the fourth floor, in what used to be the transfiguration hallway. This," he said gesturing to an old classroom, "used to be my classroom." The man said fondly.

"You used to teach transfiguration, sir?"

"Oh yes, for nearly 20 years! Outside of teaching, transfiguration has always been my other passion. Professor McGonagall has mentioned that you're quit the transfiguration student yourself!"

His cheeks colored lightly at the praise; "I don't know about that. I just like to study and try and do my best."

The elderly man just smiled. "How have you been, Harry?"

The quick change of topic caught him off guard, but he recovered. "I'm doing okay, sir."

Dumbledore stared at him for a long second before a sad smile crossed his face. "A most unfortunate tragedy, my boy. We are very fortunate that you weren't hurt."

Anger boiled up within him. ' _Fortunate? Hermione died and I'm fortunate that I wasn't hurt?'_

"I don't know how the incident could be _fortunate,_ sir." He growled. "Hermione died."

How could the headmaster seem so blasé about the whole situation?

"The death of your friend was absolutely tragic." He said sadly. "But it doesn't do well to blame yourself, Harry."

He sighed sadly. He had tried not to blame himself, but he couldn't help but feel like if he had studied harder, practiced more, and been a bit quicker, than his friend would still be alive.

"It's hard, headmaster. Hermione was my first friend, and I can't help but feel as though I could have done _something_ to stop the troll."

Dumbledore looked at him sadly; "trolls are exceptionally difficult for a full-grown wizard to handle on their own, let alone a first year. You performed admirably. But you must try and move on; how would Ms. Granger act if she thought you blamed yourself for her death?"

He smiled at that. "She'd probably haunt me." He said with a laugh.

"Exactly." Dumbledore said, suddenly turning serious. "All we can do in times of tragedy is remember the good times and do our best to move on."

Harry nodded; while he didn't feel all that much better, he saw the wisdom in the headmaster's words.

"How did the troll get in the school, sir?" The question had been bothering him for days, and he still couldn't see how a troll managed to slip into Hogwarts unnoticed.

Dumbledore seemed to eye him curiously for a moment before deciding on his words.

"It is my belief that Voldemort, in his quest to return to power, meant to use the troll as a diversion for some other means."

They were sitting in Dumbledore's old classroom now. A couple waves of the ancient wizard's wand had repaired a few desks and removed the thick layer of dust that had been there only moments before.

He was shocked. _'Isn't Voldemort dead?'_ he thought to himself.

"Sir I thought," he said, pointing at his scar, "that he was dead?"

From behind the old wizard's glasses, Harry swore he could feel that the headmaster had wanted to tell him something, but a second later the feeling was gone, and Dumbledore was speaking once more.

"Lord Voldemort took many steps to ensure that he wouldn't be so easily defeated; and I fear that it is only a matter of time before Voldemort is able to make a full recovery."

They sat in silence for several moments before Dumbledore spoke up once more.

"Professor Flitwick tells me he has been giving you exercises to build your strength? Would you mind demonstrating for me."

Harry smiled. With Flitwick's help he had been able to greatly improve his casting.

"Of course, sir. Would you mind conjuring a goblet for me?"

With a casual flick of his wrist, Dumbledore conjured a medium sized goblet.

Harry was impressed, that level of control, with seemingly no effort put into perspective just how little he knew.

Gripping his phoenix and holly wand loosely, Harry quickly transfigured the goblet in front of him into a pincushion, before transfiguring that pincushion into a bright, red apple. Banishing the apple across the room, he rapidly went through his disarming, stunning, and shield charms before finishing the exercise with a reducto, bombarda, and aquamenti.

All the while Albus Dumbledore watched him intently, a small smile playing at his lips.

"Very good Harry!" the man beamed. "Your wand work was flawless, and your spells weren't lacking in power. Most of those are not on your first-year syllabus, correct?"

He smiled. He was almost through with his first-term second year charms, transfiguration, and defense coursework, and had done quite a bit of independent research as well.

"No sir." he said with pride.

"May I make a few suggestions, Harry?"

He tried to contain his excitement - having an opportunity to learn directly from Albus Dumbledore wasn't something he was about to pass up.

"When you banish your apple, quickly try and hit it with a reductor while it's still in the air, it will help with your aim." At this he quickly demonstrated what he meant, before continuing. "I would also give these spells a try." He said as he jotted down some directions on a piece of parchment that had just appeared. "They will help you significantly, especially if you plan on trying out for the dueling team next year." The headmaster finished with a knowing smile.

"Now, I believe it is time for dinner. If you'll follow me, Harry, I'll escort you to the great hall."

* * *

 _Avis!_ She heard her opponent bellow as a small flock of birds started to fly towards her.

 _Depulso!_ Lily countered, feeling a burst of magic erupt from her wand. _'It worked!'_ She thought to herself. She was so shocked that she didn't have time to avoid the disarming charm sent her way.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Lily smiled despite the loss as Daphne tossed her back her wand.

It was the last meeting of the term, and for the past few weeks the first years had been dueling each other for practice.

"You've gotten better." The blonde girl replied casually. "When did you learn the banishing charm?"

She smiled; "that's the first time I've been able to get it to work."

Daphne frowned. "Did Potter teach you that?"

Lily smiled again; "we went over the wand movements a few days ago, I knew I _could_ do the spell, I just hadn't been able to get it to work till tonight."

"Do you think he'd be a challenge for me?"

Lily thought for a second, Daphne considered herself to be the top first year duelist in the school, and while she was certain Daphne would win, she felt it would be close.

"I don't think so, Daphne." She said, deciding to play it safe. Daphne Greengrass was too proud to hear the truth, and she didn't want to get into an argument.

The green-eyed girl gave her an approving nod, before turning to watch the boy in question.

Harry was dueling with Macmillan, and from the looks of it, things weren't going well for the Hufflepuff boy as he pounded Potter's shields with every spell he knew.

The second there was a break in the action, Harry's wand went into motion, " _Expelliarmus!"_ She heard Harry say, watching as his spell crashed harmlessly into the other boy's shield.

Undeterred, Potter cast the spell several more times in rapid succession, breaking through the hufflepuffs meager attempt at a shield. A few seconds later Harry was holding the other boy's wand, and the duel over.

Next to her she saw Daphne observing Harry with renewed interest.

"You lied to me." She heard her friend say from her right.

"I'd still win, but Potter would be a worthy opponent." Lily raised an eyebrow, like their head of house, Daphne Greengrass wasn't one to pay compliments.

"You could gather that from less than ten seconds? He only used one spell!" How could she gather anything useful off watching him cast one spell?

"It's his casting speed, his wand never stopped moving." The slightly chubby blonde stated. "He's obviously been doing some practice."

And he had, she thought, remembering how she had come across him practicing third year transfiguration in an empty class a few weeks earlier.

"I'm going to go talk to him. I'll see you back in the common room." And with that she made her way towards the front of the hall where Harry was talking to Terry Boot.

"Hi Harry, Boot." She said calmly, acknowledging each boy. "You're getting really quick."

He shot her a small grin as Boot excused himself.

"How did your duels go?" Curiosity evident in his voice.

A broad smile graced her face at his question, showing off a perfect set of pearly white teeth.

"0-3!" She said with cheer, and almost laughed at Harry's confused look.

"I was dueling Daphne, she's really good." She added. "But I WAS able to banish her flock of birds back at her during our last duel, and I had no trouble with my stunning spell." Going none for three really should have bothered her more, but she wasn't a dueler, she knew that.

He smiled at her as they slowly headed towards the dungeons.

"Thanks for all your help with astronomy."

She grimaced. The boy was hopeless at the subject, if it hadn't been for her help, she was certain he would have barely scraped by with an 'Acceptable.'

"You should be thanking me. How do you think the exam went?"

He shrugged. "Okay. I think I'll get an Outstanding."

"Then you obviously cheated." She replied, rolling her eyes. "You're not nearly good enough at mapping constellations to get an Outstanding."

"Naw, you're too good at covering your work for me to cheat," he replied cheekily as she swatted his arm, "plus your standards are too high, I think I did well."

"My standards are not too high, Potter! Yours just aren't high enough!" She really had come to enjoy their banter. Harry's determination, and a surprisingly good sense of humor meshed well with her _perfectionism,_ as Harry called it.

"So, are you prepared for tomorrow?" He asked.

Admittedly she was nervous. While she had improved, wand classes weren't her forte.

"I should be fine in charms," she said thoughtfully, "though transfiguration is going to be difficult."

"So, Harry," she started, as they turned the corner to the corridor leading to the Slytherin common room, "got any plans for Christmas?"

He frowned, and she wondered what she could have said.

"I'll be staying at Hogwarts." Was his terse reply.

She was too curious not to ask, _'why would he stay here over Christmas?'_

"You're not going to visit family?"

His frown turned into a scowl; "my relatives aren't very fond of magic, I wouldn't go there even if they welcomed me."

It was her turn to frown. "So, you live with muggles then?"

Stopping in front of the portrait leading to her common room, Harry turned to look her in the eyes.

"Do you have a problem with muggles?" His question wasn't that surprising, considering the reputation of Slytherin.

She didn't have a problem with muggles.. She didn't think. Coming from a pureblood family meant that she had never really interacted with them.

Lily thought about the best way to respond to his question. "I don't have a problem with muggles, I don't think. I grew up a witch, I've never had to associate with them before." She thought for a second before adding; "although I don't see the need for me to associate with them either. They have their world, I don't need to explore it."

They stood there quietly for a second, hopefully he didn't take offense, but she spoke the truth.

"Does that bother you, Harry?" She asked, more than a little curious about his response.

"Not really…" He said slowly. "I can see why you wouldn't need to interact with muggles, there's not really a point… You're not a pureblood supremacist, are you?"

The question shocked her, although she didn't know why, the conversation had been heading in this direction, and it was a natural question to ask. Still, it was a rather touchy subject.

"I believe in _magical_ supremacy." Was the response she went with. "I only have issues with muggleborns that come into our world and have no interest in assimilating to society. I can't understand why so many muggleborns choose to live their lives between the two worlds."

"Why does it bother _you?_ You just said that you've had no interaction with the muggle world, and that you have no interest in interacting with the muggle world. So why would it matter how others choose to live their lives?"

His tone was more curious than accusatory, though she still frowned slightly. "Our society is stagnant. In the past, muggleborns would seamlessly integrate, very few saw blood as an issue. We all came from a muggleborn somewhere down the line. Even the staunchest blood purist must admit that. Take the Moons, for example. I'm the first pureblood in my family."

His confused look gave her the confidence to continue.

"My great-great Grandpa was a muggleborn. I'm a fourth-generation witch, after 3 generations, your family is considered pureblood."

Harry looked thoughtful. "I didn't know that." He acquiesced. "I just assumed there was some racial component, you know, because of Voldemort."

She flinched at _his_ name. "The Dark Lord was a genocidal maniac who perverted the doctrine of the Traditionalist Party to fit his bigoted agenda. Nothing more, nothing less."

She smiled as she stepped into her common room, leaving him something to think about.

"Good luck tomorrow, Harry."

* * *

The great hall was unusually quiet the last morning of term as most of the students took the opportunity to do some last-minute studying before that day's final exams.

Harry, however, was reading the Daily Prophet. Taking a bite of eggs as he turned the page, he heard Terry sigh in mild disgust next to him.

"Remind me to teach you some etiquette."

"What do you mean?" He mumbled, mouth still full of eggs.

"I shouldn't be able to _hear_ you eat. And you definitely shouldn't be talking with your mouth full. You're almost as bad as Weasley." Was the brunette's reply.

Harry rolled his eyes. Over the last few weeks he had discovered that Terry Boot was a wealth of information. The boy was a wealth of information.

"Well excuse me, Mr. Manners." He said, returning to the newspaper in front of him.

Terry just rolled his eyes. "Anything interesting?" He said, peering over Harry's shoulder.

"Apparently the Board of Governors are meeting with the Headmaster on Boxing Day."

The other boy was silent for a minute as he read. "It looks like they finally found an excuse to try and force Dumbledore out." Terry mused.

"Why would they want to do that?" His limited interactions with the headmaster hadn't given him the impression that they needed a change.

Terry shrugged. "He's getting old, and there's a group of families that think it's time for him to retire."

"Just because he's old doesn't mean he can't be a good headmaster."

Terry just gave him another shrug. "Well… with Hermione's death," he said cautiously, Terry knew how sensitive he was about the topic, "they probably sense an opportunity. The board has been trying to push out Binns and Filch for _years_ , and there are plenty of people who think Hogwarts standards are slipping."

Harry thought about it; he hadn't encountered Filch very often, but he could understand the attitude towards their History teacher, the ghost clearly wasn't concerned with the quality of their education.

"What do you think will happen?" He asked Boot, who had already returned to his charms notes.

"Probably nothing." Was his reply. "They've been trying for years, nothing's worked yet."

* * *

The great hall was unusually quiet the last morning of term as most of the students took the opportunity to do some last-minute studying before that day's final.

Harry, however, was reading the Daily Prophet. Taking a bite of eggs as he turned the page, he heard Terry sigh in mild disgust next to him.

"Remind me to teach you some etiquette."

"What do you mean?" He mumbled, mouth still full of eggs.

"I shouldn't be able to _hear_ you eat. And you definitely shouldn't be talking with your mouth full." Was the brunette's quick reply.

Harry rolled his eyes. Over the last few weeks he had discovered that Terry Boot was a wealth of information. The boy seemed to know everything about the wizarding world.

"Well excuse me, Mr. Manners." He said, returning to the newspaper in front of him.

"Anything interesting?" Terry asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Apparently the Board of Governors are meeting with the Headmaster on Boxing Day."

The other boy was silent for a minute as he read. "It looks like they finally found an excuse to try and force Dumbledore out." Terry mused.

"Why would they want to do that?" His limited interactions with the headmaster hadn't given him the impression that they needed a change.

Terry shrugged. "He's getting old, and there's a group of families that think it's time to retire."

"Just because he's old doesn't mean he can't be a good headmaster."

Terry just gave him another shrug. "Well.. with Hermione's death," he said cautiously, Terry knew how sensitive he was about the topic, "they probably sense an opportunity. The board has been trying to push out Binns and Filch for _years_ , and there are plenty of people who think Hogwarts standards are slipping."

Harry thought about it; he hadn't encountered Filch very often, but he could understand the attitude towards their History teacher, the ghost clearly wasn't concerned with the quality of their education."

"What do you think will happen?" He asked Boot, who had already returned to his charms notes.

"Probably nothing." Was his reply. "They've been trying for years, nothing's worked yet."

* * *

The room began to fill up around him as the Board of Governors arrived.

Albus Dumbledore sighed. He had expected the meeting in the wake of a child's death, but that didn't mean he was looking forward to it. He fully expected that Lucius Malfoy and Octavius Nott had plans to make changes.

The Hogwarts Board of Governors was comprised of 7 members, tasked with ensuring that the school maintained its standing as Europe's premier magical school.

With the arrival of Elizabeth Fawley, Dumbledore banged his gavel, and called the meeting to order.

"Good evening, everyone. I hope you and your families had a wonderful Christmas." He looked around the room; he knew he could count on Longbottom, Bones, and Abbott for support; while Nott, Malfoy, and Flint would undoubtedly challenge him at every turn.

As was normal during these meetings, the two groups would be competing for Elizabeth Fawley's vote to be the tiebreaker during any disputes that may arise.

While the other six members had fairly predictable ideals. The youngest member of the Board of Governors was more calculating than the rest, making her the groups only wildcard.

Hearing various greetings from the Board, he continued with the formalities; "we are gathered here at Hogwarts on the 26th of December 1991 to convene a special meeting of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, officially called for by one Octavius Nott on the 21st of December 1991."

Turning to the thin-haired middle-aged man, he continued the familiar diatribe expected at this self-important meeting; "Lord Nott, the floor is yours."

Octavius Nott was a skilled politician, he had to admit. Unlike Flint and Malfoy, Nott had never been publicly accused of being a Death Eater, despite his obvious political leanings, and rumored financial support to Voldemort. Escaping formal accusations meant that the Nott family hadn't experienced any negative public feedback, allowing the Nott family to thrive in the years after Voldemort's first fall.

"Good evening everyone. I have called this meeting to review recent activities at Hogwarts, as well as to discuss the safety, and education of our children." His voice was calm, but captivating. Lord Nott had always been a skilled orator.

"The first order of business, is the events that transpired on the evening of the 31st of October, 1991. Headmaster, would you mind explaining what transpired?"

Albus sighed, Halloween had been the worst day in his over 50 years as an educator. The death of a student still weighed heavily on his conscious.

"On the day in question, Professor Quirrell entered the scheduled staff meeting several minutes late, he proceeded to inform us that a Mountain Troll had found its way into the dungeons."

He was interrupted by Amelia Bones. "And why didn't the _defense_ professor handle the situation personally?" The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement inquired.

Dumbledore smiled inwardly; "That is something you would have to take up with Quirinus, Madam Bones."

"I was under the impression," Jacob Abbott began, "that Professor Quirrell recently spent a class period covering the practical side of defending against a troll. Surely he could have stopped its advance?"

At this Jebediah Flint spoke up, "Lord Abbott, it isn't practical to expect one professor to take on a fully-grown Mountain Troll, Professor Quirrell took the most logical approach to a dangerous situation, we cannot fault him for this."

The headmaster looked around the room, taking in the immediate reactions of the rest of the Board. He frowned slightly as both Fawley, and surprisingly, Augusta Longbottom, nodded their heads in agreement at Flints words.

"Upon being informed of the intrusion. I directed Professor Quirrell to show myself, and Professor McGonagall where he had seen the troll, while asking the rest of the professors to split into pairs and search the castle. Upon arriving in the dungeons, we heard a scream, followed by a crash. At that point we followed the noise to its source."

"And that's when you encountered a deceased Ms. Granger and an unconscious Mr. Potter?" Lucius Malfoy spoke for the first time, Albus couldn't help but notice that the normally talkative man had not tried to take charge of the meeting yet. _'They're trying a new approach'_ he thought to himself.

"Yes. At that point I disposed of the troll and ordered Minerva to escort Mr. Potter to the medical wing, while I went to inform the DMLE of the tragedy."

"I can confirm the last part of the story." Amelia Bones spoke up. "We talked for several minutes before myself, and several aurors went to investigate."

He gave the women a quick smile. Amelia Bones was exceptionally non-partisan and held credibility with almost everyone in the Ministry.

"Have you been able to determine how the troll was able to breach the walls of Hogwarts?" Fawley spoke up.

"The investigation is ongoing; however, it is my belief that the troll got lost in the forest, and in its confusion, ended up in the castle." It was a weak response, he knew, but letting his adversaries know that he was onto their plans was hardly a good idea, even if it may help him in the short-term.

Seemingly content with the answer, Octavius quickly pushed forward. _'I wonder if he is aware of Malfoy's plan?'_ He thought to himself.

"These things can happen." Nott said, to the agreement of Flint, Malfoy, and surprisingly Jacob Abbott. _'Abbott doesn't want to consider an alternative.'_ Albus thought to himself, _'it's easier to accept the simple answer than to believe in a conspiracy.'_

"What the Board would like to know," the professional politician continued, "is what steps is the school taking to ensure that a tragedy like this doesn't occur again?"

Despite their political differences, the rest of the Board nodded their heads in agreement at Notts words - with the exception of Fawley they all had children attending school.

"After an internal review of our safety procedures, we have decided to double the number of staff and Master's candidates on patrol during the day, and I have reached out to Beacourt & Macmillan to run an independent review of all our safety policies, encouraging them to make any suggestions they deem necessary." In his opinion, he had gone above and beyond what was necessary to meet his duties as Headmaster.

"That's all well and good, Albus. But what about during the night? What procedures are you taking to prevent an accident while most of the castle sleeps?" Elizabeth inquired.

' _That sounded a bit pre-meditated'_ he thought, ' _is Fawley working with Nott, Malfoy, and Flint?'_ If that was the case, then he had already lost the battle.

"The staff and prefects will continue their nightly patrols. And I have asked Argus Filch to monitor the obvious points of entry."

"A squib is the school's first line of defense?" Flint frowned. "That hardly seems practical."

"Argus has a way to contact me directly, and if any issues shall arrive, I'll be able to respond in mere seconds."

His response seemed to placate Abbott and Longbottom, but the others looked unconvinced.

"Albus, I think I speak for most of the room when I say that having the squib as Hogwarts first line of defense hardly inspires confidence." Malfoy, Flint, and Fawley nodded their heads in agreement at Notts proclamation.

"The school needs several capable individuals in case the worst should occur," turning to Amelia Bones, Nott continued, "Madam Bones, would it be possible to station a few aurors in the school to protect our children?"

Amelia Bones frowned; "unfortunately, Lord Nott, the Hogwarts Charter specifically states that Hogwarts is to act 'without interference from the Ministry of Magic.' My office can increase the number of aurors patrolling Hogsmeade, nothing more."

Octavius nodded sagely. "Then may I make a suggestion?" Seemingly curious, Augusta Longbottom gestured for him to continue, Nott gave her a slight smile.

"Daniel Avery just completed a lengthy stay in St. Mungo's, and has been placed on medical leave from the auror corps for the next six months, isn't that right, Amelia?" The woman in question nodded her head.

"With the Board's approval, I would like to suggest that Avery be given the task of acting as additional security for the remainder of the year."

"Unfortunately, Octavius" Dumbledore spoke up "Hogwarts cannot afford to add any additional staff at this time."

While Daniel Avery was too young to be a Death Eater, his father and grandfather were some of Tom's earliest, and most loyal, supporters.

"Fortunately," Jebediah sneered, "the Board of Governors can authorize the necessary funds to protect our children."

He sighed, he knew he had lost this fight. "Very well, all of those in favor of adding Daniel Avery to the staff for the rest of the year?"

He frowned again as seven hands shot up in the air in favor of the appointment.

"The measure passes, please inform Mr. Avery to meet me in my office in two days' time. I will inform the house elves to prepare a room for him. Now if there's nothing else I'd like to get back to preparing for the return of the students."

"Actually, Albus." Lucius Malfoy cut him off with a vicious smile. "I believe now would be the perfect time to discuss the abysmal marks most of our children have been receiving in history. Over the last decade, Hogwarts has produced the lowest marks on the continent in the subject."

"I must agree with his assessment, Headmaster." Jacob Abbott, in a surprising move, was concurring with Malfoy, "I have expressed my concern with allowing a ghost teach our children many times."

"And I understand your worries, Lord Abbott, Lord Malfoy. However, I have been unable to find a suitable replacement."

" _Anyone_ would be a suitable replacement at this point." Bones grumbled.

"Regardless, this is an issue that will have to be discussed at the end of the year."

"I don't think so, Dumbledore. The Board has taken it upon ourselves to convince a well-respected historian to come out of retirement."

"And who, pray tell, would that be, Lucius?" Albus smiled, there weren't many historians willing to teach at Hogwarts. Contrary to their belief, he had been trying to find a replacement for Binns for some time.

"Why Cantankerous Nott, of course." The blonde-haired man said triumphantly. "Master Nott has graciously agreed to take over the History post effective at the beginning of the term, should the board approve his hire."

"Absolutely not!" Augusta Longbottom had been mostly quiet to this point but was now shouting. "Cantankerous Nott is a bigoted farce, and I will not have my grandson learn from him!"

"Cantankerous Nott is the most well-respected historian in the British Isles, Augusta. There isn't a man alive who knows more about our society's foundation than him." Was Flints harsh response.

"Regardless, Jebediah, you have to admit that Cantankerous' controversial past would not be in the best interest of the students." Dumbledore responded.

"Controversial past, Dumbledore? There was a time when his books were on every students required reading list."

Albus looked around the room; feeling confident, he called the issue to a vote.

Two minutes later he surveyed the room in disappointment, he had been overruled 4-3.

"Very well, please have Mr. Nott report to my office tomorrow morning, we have much to discuss."

And just like that, he had lost a little bit of his control over the school

* * *

 _Aquapilatum!_ He nearly screamed, twirling his wand in a counter-clockwise circle and finishing with a jab; a small ball of water limped out of his wand, weakly hitting the wall in front of him.

Harry frowned. He had been practicing this spell for the last two days, and he _still_ couldn't produce the desired results. The spell was supposed to hurl a giant ball of dense water at his opponent, yet he hadn't been able to manage it.

Hearing a noise from the doorway, Harry frowned quickly checking the time.

"You're early." He said without turning around.

"Only a few minutes." Was her confident response.

Turning around he was greeted with a pretty pair of pearly whites and blue eyes. He smiled back at her.

"Besides, I didn't feel like trying to explain the magical properties of Unicorn horns to Blaise again… what were you practicing." Lily continued.

"A water spell from the book you gave me. I haven't been able to get it to work properly, though, he frowned."

" _Defending with Offense"_ by Ophelia Greengrass was his second favorite Christmas gift. The book was a compendium of spells, diagrams, dueling and battle strategies comprised by one of the most infamous witches of the last hundred years.

"What's Ophelia Greengrass's relation to Daphne?" He questioned. While he hadn't had much interaction with the blonde-haired Slytherin, he knew from Lily that she fancied herself to be the best dueler in their year. 2 months ago, he may have disagreed, but if she was being taught by one of Grindelwald's disciples than Harry would have to re-evaluate that line of thinking.

"She was her great aunt." Lily replied. "Daphne worships her."

" _Was_ her great aunt?"

Lily pondered her response for a second; "she was killed by a former student before the Dark Lord attempted to kill you."

"So how does Daphne worship the woman?"

"She's seen Ophelia duel through her families pensieve. Besides, "she said, pointing at the book sitting on the desk in front of him, "Daphne has read every book and note the woman ever wrote."

"Is that why she thinks she can beat me in a duel?" Was his amused response, he hadn't been able to duel her yet at the club and was looking forward to the chance.

"Partially. I know she bragged to Malfoy about receiving some training from her father over the holiday."

He grimaced at the mention of Draco Malfoy. The boy had _way_ too much confidence for his mediocre abilities.

"Why would she have to brag to Malfoy?" He questioned.

Lily groaned. "He's been telling everyone in the common room how a _special_ group of Slytherin's have been training with Daniel Avery all term, Daphne was just telling him how unimpressed she was."

He sighed. The snakes could be just as petty as his roommates, he supposed. Besides Terry, the other first year claws had done their best to minimize their interactions with him since Hermione's death.

Harry decided to change topics. "What did you want to work on today?"

"I'm having trouble with this week's transfiguration work." She frowned. "I've done the reading but can't seem to get it right."

He gestured for her to show him.

Long, pale, fingers waved her wand dramatically. Speaking the incantation and finishing with a slight twirl, the girl frowned as the book in front of her changed into a large, thick wooden matchstick.

"Your wand movements are too broad, and you're not concentrating enough on changing the _size_ of your transfiguration." He took his wand out, demonstrating once with ease.

Five minutes later his pupil flashed him another pretty smile before tightly wrapping her arms around his torso.

He tensed slightly at the hug, not used to the contact, before composing himself, asking her to demonstrate the 7 spells he had her practicing.

' _She's improved.'_ He thought as she completed the final spell with ease.

Since the beginning of term, he had had her and Terry doing the basic strengthening exercise Flitwick had shown him in September, he was pleased to see that both had made great strides.

"I think it's time we added something new." Harry lectured. "I want you to add two spells in at the end."

Removing some parchment and a quill, he wrote down _'Lumos Maxima'_ and ' _Surdis,'_ along with some basic instructions, before handing the parchment over to the black-haired girl.

"The first spell is an enhancement on the basic lumos charm. Instead of producing a soft gentle light for reading or getting around at night. _Lumos Maxima_ will produce a blinding light. _Surdis,_ on the other hand, will produce a deafening blast. When you combine the two spells together, you'll take away two of your opponent's senses for a few seconds, and if you're clever, you'll be able to end the duel or escape from danger."

Thirty minutes later Harry left the room with a headache, rubbing his eyes.

"Here." Lily said from next to him, handing him a vial from her bag. "It's a pain relief potion."

He accepted the vial graciously, downing it in one, he felt the potion begin to work a few seconds later and sighed. "Thanks"

"So, Harry, got any plans for Valentine's Day?" She seemed genuinely curious.

"No, I'll probably just stick to my routine. Why?"

"I heard the Weasley twins talking to themselves, apparently they have something planned for the ball."

He groaned. He had forgotten about the annual Valentine's Day ball, not that he planned on going.

"It won't affect me. I'm not going."

She nodded. "There's no real point in going. I don't think it's meant for first years, anyways..."

They talked for a few more minutes before Harry took a left towards the kitchens to pick up a snack, while Lily continued towards her common room.

* * *

Terry rubbed his eyes in exhaustion as he finished up his essay on the founding of the Wizengamot for Professor Nott.

The surly professor had spent the last three and a half months complaining about how woefully behind their year was and had been doing his best to rectify that.

The Ravenclaw common room was packed, but quiet. Not for the first time he was appreciative of the silencing wards around the desks on the lower level.

"How many permanent seats are there on the Wizengamot?" Su Li asked the table.

"28, with another 11 members that are elected every 5 years." Corner replied, without looking up.

"Thanks, Michael.".

Terry sighed. He had been hoping to work in silence, but the other members of his year had joined his table. Thankfully they hadn't been too talkative.

It had been a strange year. He decided.

After the Granger girl's death, and his arrangement with Harry had been made public, the other Ravenclaw first years had treated him with kindness, but with distance. At least they weren't avoiding him like they were Harry.

"Did you hear that Professor Quirrell collapsed in class?" Patil gossiped from next to Su.

He _hadn't_ heard that.

"When?" Goldstein spoke up.

"I heard from my sister that he collapsed to the floor in the Gryffindor's fourth year class this afternoon." The Indian girl whispered. "He ended up cancelling DADA for the rest of the day!"

"I didn't see him at dinner either." Corner replied, rubbing his chin in thought.

"Do you think we'll have class tomorrow?"

"I hope not! I could use the afternoon off!" Jones laughed.

Finished with his essay, Terry packed up his bag and headed to his dorm where he could read in peace.

* * *

Harry rubbed his forehead in pain as Professor Quirrell continued with his lecture. His headaches had been getting progressively worse over the last few weeks, and he was beginning to wonder if he should go to the medical wing with his concerns.

Grabbing Terry's attention, he asked him if he had a pain relief potion handy, seeing the other boy shake his head. Harry turned his attention back to the professor. ' _I really need to learn how to brew that potion for myself'_ he thought to himself.

As Quirrell demonstrated how to shoot a wooden spike out of his wand for the class, he couldn't help but notice the small changes to the professor's personality since he had apparently collapsed in class a few weeks ago.

Gone was his slight stutter, replaced by a calm and confident demeanor; the man had become more menacing, making more demands of the class instead of calmly explaining theory as he had in the past. He wondered what had brought about the sudden change.

The bell rang, and he pushed those thoughts out of his mind, deciding instead to see if Lily happened to be carrying a pain relief potion on her.

"Hey Moon!" The girl in question turned away from Zabini and gave him a questioning look. "Do you happen to have any pain relief potion on you?"

She smiled, handing him a vial. He downed it quickly; his thoughts on Quirrell's behavior already forgotten.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office after watching an impressive Nymphadora Tonks claim her second consecutive school dueling title. For the first time since dueling had returned to the school, he felt good about the Hogwarts champion's chances in the broader all-school tournament this summer.

He smiled at that. The last Headmaster to have that trophy reside in his office had been Albus's predecessor, Armando Dippet.

He turned his attention to the magnificent piece of parchment sitting in front of him. Dumbledore had been so impressed with the artefact, that he hadn't even bothered to give the Weasley twins detention when he confiscated it earlier in the year.

Dots with names underneath moved about the castle, but his eyes were focused on one Quirinus Quirrell. He fully expected that the man had been completely possessed by Voldemort, and Albus had taken to watching the defense professor every moment he had a chance.

He observed quietly as said man walked down a corridor on the seventh floor, almost directly above the charms classroom.

To his surprise, Quirrell suddenly vanished.

Acting on instinct, the aging man called for Fawkes, and disappeared.

* * *

He was in still in awe as he left the dueling pits, having just witnessed Tonks beat Bletchley to claim her second consecutive Hogwarts championship.

The duel had been magnificent, as both competitors brought a different style to the event.

Bletchley was thick and slow but made up for it with a seemingly endless array of shields, countering with some truly impressive transfiguration work.

The boy favored a defensive style. Relying on shields and countering his opponent's attacks when he could. It was clear to Harry that he had been hoping for the smaller, faster witch to make a mistake.

Tonks, on the other hand, favored a distinct offensive style; choosing to duck and dodge, rather than wasting time with shields. Attacking without letting up until the seventh year Slytherin was completely exhausted before finishing him with a stunner.

The Hufflepuff's strategy, he had noticed, had been almost identical to the style Harry had read about in the book he had been given by Lily.

Climbing the stairs to the seventh floor, he was greeted by two identical mops of red hair, whispering frantically to each other.

He smiled as he observed the Weasley twins as he recalled hearing that _someone_ at the Valentine's Day Ball, had charmed several cupids to follow Professor Snape around the great hall throughout the dance, singing the greasy man's praises in an off-key tune until the potions master finally lit the things on fire.

"Hi Fred, George." He greeted, as their eyes simultaneously snapped up, noticing his presence for the first time.

"Why Harry!" one of them replied, while the other bowed. "What brings you to this part of the castle?"

He shrugged; "Ravenclaw common room is around here."

That got their attention.

"You know you're our _favorite_ first year Harry?" The other twin replied.

"What about your brother?"

They brushed him off. Taking turns responding to him.

"Ickle little Ronniekins isn't nearly as smart -

Or charming -

Or as good looking -

As you." They finished in unison.

Harry smiled. These two could always make him laugh.

"Stop buttering me up. What do you want?"

"What makes you think we want something?" The one with the freckle under his right eye responded.

He just stared at them, and they smiled.

"You did just say your common room is around here. Would you mind showing us where the entrance is?" They pouted, giving him their best puppy dog eyes.

Like he would ever show these two where he slept, he had no intention of becoming a victim.

His scar briefly erupted in pain as the trio rounded the corner, just in time to see Professor Quirrell disappear into a room.

Having not noticed his pain, the twins looked at each other, a curious expression on their faces.

"Why George, did you know there was a room in this corridor?"

"I did not Fred."

Neither did Harry, for that matter. He had been taking this route to the common room since the beginning of the year, relishing the silence the normally empty hallway brought.

Walking to the spot where Quirrell had disappeared a minute ago, he wasn't surprised to notice that there was no visible door.

A few minutes later his scar exploded in pain again; like someone had ripped his forehead open and was now stabbing his brain with hot knives. He howled in pain as he heard a loud crack, and his right arm suddenly went limp, unable to grip his wand.

Starring up, through blurry eyes he saw Professor Quirrell standing above him with red eyes, clutching some sort of tiara and pointing his wand at him.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore arrived in the seventh-floor corridor with a flash. He had no time to act as Quirrell sent a bone-breaker at Harry Potter, hitting him in his wand arm.

"Please grab Harry and escort him to the medical wing, Mr. Weasley." He said to the ginger to his left as he returned fire.

The impromptu duel heated up as a familiar streak of green light left Quirrell's wand. Conjuring a stone wall to intercept the spell, he transfigured the debris into three wolves, sending them back at Quirrell, who dispensed of the animals quickly, only to get hit in the shoulder with several arrows.

' _It would appear as though Voldemort is limited by the abilities of his host.'_ The ancient man realized as he dodged another killing curse, unleashing a trio of stunners in return.

' _Contego'_ Quirrell verbalized, allowing the stunners to be absorbed into his shield, returning fire with an entrail expelling curse.

The wide-arcing, sickly green curse missed its mark as Dumbledore returned fire with a series of bone breakers.

Quirrell dodged the first two nimbly, only to be caught in the neck with his final spell. A loud snap and a pool of blood told the headmaster that the man was dead.

A half second later Albus Dumbledore watched in horror as a black and purple wraith emerged from the dead man's body, hissing at him before disappearing a few seconds later.

* * *

He woke up to the rising sun on his face, and a dull throbbing in his right arm.

Grabbing his glasses off the table next to him, Harry saw he was sitting on a familiar cot surrounded by white curtains on three sides.

A woman with curly-black hair and a heart-shaped face that he recognized as Healer Adams was sitting in the corner reading a magazine.

Seemingly noticing he was awake, Healer Adams set her magazine down and offered him a slight smile.

"Good morning Mr. Potter, how are you feeling?"

' _How did he feel?'_ besides the slight pain in his right arm, and the smallest tinge of a headache, he felt alright.

"Alright, ma'am. A little bit of pain in my wand-arm and head, that's it."

"As to be expected, Harry." This time she smiled more broadly. "You suffered a broken right arm, a bone-breaker curse, I suspect. You also have some slight head trauma. I'm afraid I don't know what caused that. But you'll make a full recovery."

She stood up. "If you'll stay here I'll have the elves fetch you breakfast. The headmaster wishes to speak with you."

A few minutes later he was eating bacon and eggs, trying to remember the etiquette lessons Terry had been giving him at meal times.

At about the time he was finishing his breakfast, and the pain in his head and arm was subsiding, Dumbledore stepped into his room, waving his wand in a complicated manner as the curtains emitted a light glow.

"What did you do, sir?" He asked. He suspected he had cast a ward of some sort, but he had never seen it done.

The headmaster offered him a warm smile; "A simple privacy ward, my boy. I want you to tell me about last night's events."

' _Last night's events? Last night's events!"_ And then it all came back to him; the Weasley twins, his scar, Quirrell.

Looking the headmaster in his blue eyes, he felt a slight twinge. "After the duels I was wondering the halls with the Weasley twins." He started

"A brave endeavor, Harry." Dumbledore said with mischief in his eyes. "But I suspect a pleasant one nonetheless." He gestured for Harry to continue.

"We made our way to the 7th floor, we turned a corner," he frowned, remembering the slight pain he felt as he turned the corner, "I felt some pain in my head; then the twins and I saw Professor Quirrell disappear through a door."

With a slight look of confusion on his face, he remembered how when they had arrived there was no door. They had spent nearly five minutes trying to figure out what happened before Quirrell came out. "But when we had arrived the door was gone. Do you know where he could have gone, sir?"

"I think I might, Harry, but please continue."

"Anyways we spent a couple minutes looking for the door, but we never found it. Next thing I know, my head felt like someone was tearing it apart and stabbing my brain, and according to Healer Adams I was hit in the arm with a bone-breaker by Professor Quirrell, what happened, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore looked at him with over his half-moon spectacles, deep in thought.

"I believe, Harry, that you and your friends interrupted an attempt by Voldemort to resurrect himself."

"But that was Quirrell!" _'How could that have been Voldemort?'_

"No, my boy. That was Voldemort, his soul had completely possessed poor Quirinus."

"Sir, how has he survived."

"Lord Voldemort's greatest ambition in life - even more than power over others - is to achieve immortality. It had been my belief, a belief that was confirmed last night, that Tom had discovered some form of it."

"Tom? Sir."

"Voldemort's given name, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Many people don't know that he himself was a halfblood."

Taking a deep breath Harry asked the question he had been asking himself since he had heard his parents had been killed by Voldemort, only to be stopped by him. "Headmaster, why did Voldemort kill my family?"

A long moment passed, and Harry could see the indecision on the normally stoic headmasters face.

"Tom has always been a superstitious man, Harry. Even as a child he was fascinated by mysticism."

Dumbledore collected himself, trying to determine just how much he should tell the boy. "He has always been obsessed with immortality, so when one of his followers presented him with a prophecy that could involve him. He took steps to eliminate a potential threat. This prophecy, he believed, was regarding you and him."

Harry stared at the Headmaster, agape. What- what does it say?

And Dumbledore told him the entire thing.

"And you believe that I can kill him?"

Dumbledore gave him another long-look. "No. No I do not. At least not right now. You're very advanced for your age, but you don't have nearly enough power, skill, or knowledge to defeat him."

"But you believe in the prophecy?"

Dumbledore gave him an odd look; "it doesn't matter what I believe. Tom interpreted the prophecy to be true and involving the two of you."

A determined look overcame him. _'He would survive.'_

"Sir is there any way to I can practice magic over the summer?"

Dumbledore offered him a smile. "Yes, there is."

"I knew it!" He shouted with joy; "let me guess, you get Mr. Ollivander to remove the trace on my wand?"

"No, Harry…"

"Oh! I know! I go to Diagon Alley, or some really crowded place and the ministry will never be able to track my magical activity because of all the magic?"

"It doesn't work like that, Harry…"

He thought for a second. "Oh, I know. I go to some heavily warded home that blocks out ministry sensors?"

Dumbledore sighed, children came up with the strangest theories. "No, Harry. None of those things would work. I'll simply fill out the standard, ministry forms and gather your signature, I suggest you talk to Professor Flitwick, I'm sure you could come to some sort of arrangement with him as to a tutoring schedule. Now, if that's it, have a wonderful summer, Harry."

"Wait! Headmaster!"

Albus Dumbledore popped his head back in the room.

"That room, in the seventh floor, how does it work?"

* * *

The train had barely left Hogsmeade station when that damn bird appeared in his lab.

He groaned and placed the potion he was working on under a stasis charm.

Ten minutes later he was sitting in front of the headmaster.

"Severus, glad you could join me."

' _As if I had a choice.'_ He thought to himself. It wasn't as though sending Fawkes was a request.

"Of course, headmaster."

"I was wondering if you had heard from Lucius since last week's events?" The elderly wizard inquired.

He had written to the man immediately after his conversation with Dumbledore at the beginning of last week, and had heard back from him almost immediately, requesting he join him for tea at Malfoy Manor this upcoming Wednesday.

"Lucius has requested I join him for tea in a few days." Then he responded quickly, checking his watch, _'that potion will decrease in effect after 90 minutes under stasis,'_ he reminded himself.

"I know from our meeting at Christmas that he and Bellatrix were planning some event."

"Do you have any idea what it may concern?"

He frowned, Lucius had not confided in him. "I can only speculate, but Bellatrix has been obsessed with getting access to her vault for some time."

Dumbledore pondered his response for a moment; "alright, Severus. Please inform me if anything changes."

Severus Snape stood up, and with a slight nod, he turned and exited the office.

* * *

 **A/N:** End of Y1.

Was anyone else a little pissed off at the new trailer for Fantastic Beasts? The apparated directly into Hogwarts. That's no bueno.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JKR does.**

"You better not burn that coffee, _boy!"_

Harry suppressed a frown. It was the second Monday of break, and the Dursleys had spent the last week and a half shifting between staring at him in fear, and hurling insults his way.

"Of course, Uncle Vernon." Keeping his temper in check, it wouldn't do him any good to lose it now, not when he would be meeting Flitwick at the Leaky Cauldron at noon. _'Best not to give them a reason to stop me.'_

Two hours later found Harry stepping through the entrance of Diagon Alley. Seeing he had time, he took a sharp left onto Main Street, and began the short journey towards Gringotts Bank.

Harry had been both surprised and pleased when Dumbledore had suggested he ask Professor Flitwick to tutor him over the summer. The ex-dueling champion had been all-too eager to agree, and after signing a few documents, and coming to an agreement on galleons, Harry was ecstatic to start.

Stepping passed two vicious looking goblins in full armor, and into the marble lobby, Harry tried to remember Terry's advice.

" _You can't live your life not knowing your finances, Harry. You're going to want to see a banker, they'll be able to get your information so that you can see exactly what you have."_

His friend had a point. During his only other visit to the bank he had been so shell-shocked that he never bothered to figure out what exactly he had.

After brief introductions with the teller - Scabclaw; and giving the scar-faced goblin a drop of his blood. The goblin gave him a brief overview of his accounts, and recent account activity.

He was pleased to notice that even with Hogwarts costly tuition, his other purchases, and his arrangement with Flitwick, he would have more than enough money in his trust vault to get him through Hogwarts.

"Scabclaw?" If he had a trust vault it only made sense that he may have other assets as well.

"Do I have any other vaults?"

"You have one other vault, Mr. Potter. It belonged to your father and his family. Per the will of your parents, you will receive access to those finances, and any other heirlooms or property on either your graduation from Hogwarts, or your emancipation. Whichever comes first." Was the goblins bored reply.

Harry nodded his head in acceptance, before remembering the other reason Terry had wanted him to come to Gringotts.

"Sir, I was hoping to purchase a self-updating ledger, and I'd like to connect my key to my vault."

Purchasing a ledger, and connecting his key to his vault, Terry said, meant that he wouldn't have to visit the bank more than was completely necessary.

"10 galleons will be charged to your account annually for the ledger, and an additional 5 galleons will be charged to your account annually for the key service. Sign here if you agree to the charges."

A quick signature later and Harry was on his way to meet with Professor Flitwick.

The Leaky Cauldron had to be one of the most interesting establishments he had ever been inside of. Part inn and part tavern, London's main entrance to Diagon Alley was perpetually crowded.

Pushing his way through a crowd of middle-age witches, he spotted Flitwick waving at him near the floo checkpoint.

"Harry!"

He smiled back. "Professor."

"Please call me Filius during our sessions, Harry. It will be much easier." He grabbed some floo powder off the mantle, before giving Harry instructions, and stepping through.

Filius's cottage was… charming. Harry determined as he inspected the small living room for the first time.

To his right was a small, kitchen with large, open windows. He could feel the soft breeze flow through the room, bringing with it the salty smell of sea air. To his left was a small bedroom, and directly in front of him was another doorway leading to a reasonably large office.

The man spoke as he led Harry through the garden, over to a table overlooking the Strait of Dover.

"I thought we could grab some lunch while we talked, Harry."

Grabbing an egg salad sandwich and a glass of lemonade, he smiled.

"Thank you for agreeing to tutor me, Filius. I was worried I wouldn't be able to practice magic all summer."

"Not a problem, Harry. You're not the only student I tutor over the summer." At this he paused, looking thoughtfully for a second, "although it's generally the NEWT students who are willing to give up part of their summer for education. I was pleasantly surprised when you came to me."

' _I wonder if Flitwick ever taught my mother?'_

"Did you ever tutor my mother, sir?"

A sad frown crossed his normally cheerful features. "Unfortunately, I didn't tutor students back then."

Changing topics abruptly, Filius continued; "what did you want to focus on this summer, Harry?"

He thought for a second; "well, sir, I was hoping to get through second year spell work in defense, charms, and transfiguration; I'd also like to make the dueling team next year, and maybe start looking at ancient runes."

Filius looked at him in amusement; "an ambitious summer plan, Harry." Standing up from his chair, he motioned for him to follow. "Let's head down to the dueling pit, I want to see every spell you know."

He was impressed. When Harry Potter had come to him asking for tutoring, Filius had been curious to see how far ahead of his classmates the first year was.

As his head of house, he was aware that Minerva thought highly of James and Lily's child, in fact, his scores in all his classes had been exceptional. But you could only determine so much from class work alone.

He watched intently as an arrow shot out of Harry's wand with a murmured ' _Sagitta,'_ and the spells stopped.

"Where did you learn that last spell, Harry?" Shooting an arrow at your opponent wasn't on the Hogwarts curriculum, although it was popular among the upper year dueling students.

"I saw Tonks use it in a duel!" The boy's enthusiasm was infectious. "When I found it in a book I got for Christmas, I _had_ to try it!"

Still, there was a difference between "trying" an advanced spell, and "performing" said spell. _'He was really dedicated to those strengthening exercises.'_ Filius reminded himself.

Making a snap decision, he turned back to his pupil; "how about a quick duel, Harry?"

The boy nodded his head enthusiastically and dipped into his dueling stance.

Filius examined the boy; left foot in front of his right, he stood in a narrow crouch, minimizing his exposed features, holding his wand in his right hand next to his ear, ready to attack at moment's notice.

' _Interesting.'_ Instead of the standard defensive stance favored by most beginners, Harry's stance screamed aggression. If the boy had been older and more experienced, Filius thought he may have cut an intimidating figure.

His stance gave away his style, and the eleven-year-old opened with a quick stunner, followed up a second later by the disarming charm, and a reductor.

The charms professor shielded against each in turn, sending a light stinging hex directly at the boy. Harry shielded following up with another stunner, and Filius moved to the side, avoiding the spell altogether, sending another stinging hex at his opponent, who erected another shield.

"You're shielding too much, Harry! It's a 10-foot circle, dodge and counter!"

Filius spent the next two minutes sending spells Harry's way, shouting out advice as they went, before ending it.

"Not a bad first day, Harry." He said five minutes later with a smile. "While your spells need work, I don't see any reason why you cannot complete the second-year syllabus by the end of the summer."

' _At least.'_ He thought, smiling to himself.

The young man offered him a smile. _'He thrives off compliments,'_ he frowned. Filius hadn't realized that self-confidence was an issue for the young man, apparently, he had been wrong.

"Take this portkey; it will activate at 11:45 AM every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday bringing you directly here."

Filius showed Harry back to the Leaky Cauldron before retiring to his study for the evening. He had a letter to write.

* * *

The cold was most unpleasant, he thought.

The rain was one thing; Marcel DuPont lived in the rainforest, after all. But the cold, North Sea air was hovering around twelve degrees, and that was far too cool for a mid-July morning.

Hovering a few feet to his right was the rather unpleasant Bellatrix Lestrange; it wasn't their first night spent under disillusionment charms, preparing for what was probably the most ridiculous idea he had ever heard. But the chance to command such a large army of friends was too good to pass up, ridiculous plan or not.

"How much longer will you need, Marcel?" He could hear the excitement in her voice.

' _An excited Bellatrix Lestrange is a terrifying thing.'_ "A situation this delicate takes time, Bellatrix. The Dark Lord is exceptionally powerful." Complimenting her Dark Lord always seemed to calm the younger witch down.

Inferi were precious works of magic. Creating one was the most intimate experience a necromancer could have, tying your magic to your work, so she would only respond to her creator, the perfect companion.

Disrupting that magic could destroy her – unless you exercised patience.

"The Dark Lord has nearly 100 inferi surrounding the island, Lady Lestrange. But we will be ready as soon as Lucius keeps his promise."

She nodded. "Caroline LaPointe has recently come down with a severe case of Dragon Lung."

He turned back to his work, shivering in pleasure.

' _Then again, taking control of another's inferi was an intimate experience in its own right.'_

* * *

"Happy early birthday, Harry." Terry Boot said, taking the chair across from him.

He smiled. His cousin used to have extravagant parties, or large group outings on his birthday.

He normally spent his birthdays cutting the grass or running from Dudley's gang.

"Thanks, Terry."

Opening the gift, he was shocked to see a 10-galleon certificate to Eeylops Owl Emporium. The gift was _extravagant._ "Terry, this is too much."

The boy waved him off - "it was either this or a book on cursed objects, and I'd rather you not treat Rufus like your own personal owl."

He laughed; Rufus had been his primary source of contact with Lily while she summered in Cannes.

"Besides, I got an 'Outstanding' in transfiguration because of you."

"And _I_ got an 'Outstanding' in potions because of _you._ " Harry countered.

Terry just shrugged him off.

He decided to change the subject. "So, how's working with your father?"

"Not too bad, dreadfully boring at times, but I like all the numbers."

Over the past ten months Harry had discovered that Terry Boot's family supplied potions to not only the Ministry of Magic, but St. Mungo's, and a litany of other businesses; and while under his mother's tutelage Terry had developed into one of the best potion's students in their year, he saw his future to be on the financial side of his family's business.

"What does he have you doing all day anyhow? It's not as though you can actually manage the business, you'd bankrupt your family!"

Terry frowned, ignoring the jibe. "That's the thing, my dad doesn't trust me to do anything, so he has me shadowing various people. Learning what they do. Most of them just ignore me, but some take the time to explain things, or assign reading, that's always interesting."

"Sounds dreadful." Harry couldn't imagine staring at figures all day in a stuffy office.

"It can be." Terry nodded his head enthusiastically. "But it's only during the week, so it's not too bad. How's tutoring with Flitwick?"

His eyes lit up. "Great! Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall are going to put me into third year charms and transfiguration!"

Terry barely reacted. " _Of course,_ they are. It would be a waste of time to keep you in our class." Terry grinned in amusement; "Goldstein's going to be pissed."

"He's going to be more pissed when I beat him out for the spot on the dueling team." Harry returned viciously, there was no way that buffoon could ever beat him in a duel.

Boot nodded. "He wasn't that great in dueling club, he's got a solid understanding of the theory, he just can't perform."

"I'm not too worried about him." And he wasn't, he could beat anyone in their year, he was sure of it.

"So, you're going to Greece next month?"

Thirty minutes later and Terry had to end his rant on Athens and return to work, leaving Harry with the bill.

Diagon Alley was the most magical place he had ever seen. Fantastic animated storefronts intermixed with street vendors selling everything from sneakascopes to street food.

He was about to head into Flourish and Blotts when he caught a familiar pale blonde girl, heading into Madam Malkins holding the hand of a frailer looking, younger brunette.

Daphne Greengrass had grown several centimeters since the end of term, losing much of the baby-fat she carried first year; her high-arching cheekbones seemed more well-defined, and the robes she was trying in vain to hide, were much too baggy.

The younger girl, she assumed was her sister, looked exhausted as Greengrass wrapped her arm around her gently, as if trying to protect her from the other patrons.

The comforting nature of the act looked good on the normally unapproachable Slytherin.

He remembered Lily telling him that Greengrass was quite the dueler. Turning into the book store, he couldn't help but look forward to facing Greengrass in the pits.

The cramped bookstore had been an unpleasant experience, and he quickly gathered his textbooks for years two and three before deciding on a few other books to study in his free time.

Madam Malkins and the Apothecary had been no less crowded, luckily 'Eileen's Eyes' was practically empty, and he was able to pick up a pair of permanent contact lenses in under an hour.

Turning into Eeylops, he was met with a wave of activity.

The patrons were yelling over one another to confused looking employees, while the birds screeched.

He slowly paced the store, stopping in front of a beautiful snow-white owl sitting calmly in her cage, disdain in her big, yellow eyes.

Sensing she was being watched, the owl turned her head towards him, before observing him quietly.

Nervously, Harry grabbed an owl treat, offering it to her between the bars.

The owl took the treat greedily before offering him a firm _'hoot.'_

He grabbed the cage, a perch, and some owl treats and decided to call it a day.

* * *

It was a few mornings after his birthday, and he had just received a gift from Lily; a beautiful globe enchanted to show the constellations, asteroids, and meteorites as they would appear in the night sky.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Happy belated birthday! I hope it went well. Cannes was incredible, they have a fairly large magical district, although the last few days of vacation had the locals in a panic - apparently the French Minister has fell ill and the media is in hysterics. My family returned a few days ago, and I already miss it terribly. The sun and the sea did wonders for me. Daphne says I look like a tomato._

 _Speaking of Daphne. She tells me that you were staring at her creepily while she and Astoria went robe shopping; you've got to be more discreet, Harry, if you're going to be stalking witch's._

 _Enjoy the rest of you summer,_

 _Lily_

He blushed. ' _He was not stalking witch's.'_ He thought as he quickly sent a response off with Hedwig.

Harry hated Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays. It meant he couldn't practice magic, meaning he had to spend his spare time either reading or dodging Dudley in the park. He sighed as he looked at the rain hitting his window.

It had been an unusually wet summer, and even he got tired of reading all the time. He thought to himself, pulling out the third year Ancient Runes text.

* * *

"Do you know what an enchantment is, Harry?"

He was excited. For the last few weeks Harry had been begging his tutor to begin teaching him about the permanent aspect of charms.

"Enchantments are a form of semi-permanent charm tied to a specific area or object. Generally speaking, to be considered an enchantment, it must hold for at least six months" He began. "For example, you can enchant a candle to always stay lit, or you can tie a _'Cave Inimicum'_ to an object and those on the other side of the enchantment won't be able to see you."

Filius nodded approvingly. "Very good, Harry. Do you know how to cast an enchantment?"

Harry thought for a second, "in theory you pour enough magic into the incantation and it lasts forever." He said with a shrug.

"A blunt assessment, Harry, but more or less correct. To successfully cast an enchantment, the caster must be able to manipulate their magic."

Seeing that he had Harry's attention, he continued. "For a witch or wizard to truly be able to advance with magic, they must take several steps. The first and most basic step is simply the ability to cast basic spells without much effort. The second step is the ability to manipulate your magic, to consciously control the power behind your spells."

"But I _can_ control how powerful my spells are." He said, demonstrating his lumos.

"You're correct, to an extent. Would you mind demonstrating your aquamenti charm, Harry?"

Taking out his wand with a flick, a thick stream of water sprayed out like a fountainhead, covering the ground in front of him.

"Now Harry, I want you to narrow the stream of your spell, make it denser and shoot it across the room."

He thought for a second, picturing a thin stream of water erupting from his wand and shooting across the room.

He cast again, and to his delight, a thin jet of water erupted from his wand.

"Very good!"

Harry beamed.

"What did you do different that time?"

He shrugged; "before I was just trying to cast the charm, that time I focused on what I wanted the spell to accomplish."

Filius smiled again. "The ability to manipulate your spells in such a manner will lead to better endurance, and control. To successfully cast an enchantment, you need to be able to control how much magic you are channeling into your enchantment."

Flitwick grabbed a block of wood, setting it in front of Harry.

"For the rest of the time, I want you to try and enchant this block of wood to emit a faint, blue, glow. After each attempt, we are going to chart how long the spell lasted, and what process you took when casting the spell."

Harry groaned. Filius was very much an academic and had stressed the importance of taking notes about his attempts when exploring new magic.

As much as he hated the tedious process, he couldn't help but feel as though he was learning quicker in the long-run, rarely making the same mistake twice.

* * *

"Apply disillusionment charms!" Bellatrix Lestrange snapped to the group behind her.

A second later the three teams of four, plus herself and DuPont were nearly invisible in the pitch-black sky above the prison of Azkaban.

"Travers!" She snapped, grabbing the man's attention. "You and your team take the East wing, there should be no more than 4 aurors, dispatch of them and make lots of noise. Rawle's your team takes the West wing, and the remaining aurors."

The two men nodded, and she turned her attention to the last team leader; "Rosier, your team will be in charge of protecting Marcel."

Bellatrix took a deep breath, calming the adrenaline that was coursing through her veins. It had been years since she had the opportunity to truly satiate her blood lust.

"At this time of night, there should be no more than 10 aurors, and the warden stationed on the island, when the shift changes in 3 minutes, we should have a brief window to get into place. Do not get captured, use your portkeys if you have to."

Eric Travers turned his Nimbus 2000 towards the east, beckoning for his team to follow.

He was nervous, he admitted to himself. During the last war he had been too young to lead any raids, and while he was proficient with a wand, it had been years since he had had an opportunity to take part in battle - he wasn't so sure he still had it in him.

Travers had been surprised to receive correspondence from Bellatrix after all this time, nevertheless, Lucius had promised to award his father with a lucrative ministry contract if he took part, and he could hardly refuse.

He motioned for his team to stop as he took stock of the situation. He counted five aurors and frowned; ' _so much for having them matched.'_

Eric then signaled for two of his team to take the left while he and Parkinson covered the right.

Hearing an explosion to the west he grinned; _'Right on time.'_

Seeing that the aurors had turned to face the explosions, he took advantage of the opportunity sending a killing curse at the auror closest to him. Parkinson, had the same idea and a second later they outnumbered the remaining enemies.

"They're under disillusionment charms!" He heard a witch shout as he hopped off his broom, dodging a bone breaker as he did so, returning fire with a violent stream of curses.

Next to him he heard a scream of pain, as Huxley hit the ground, bleeding from his stomach. A split second later and Huxley was dead, hit by Parkinson's killing curse. Travers nodded at the man whose disillusionment charm had failed some seconds before.

In that instant he felt the wards fall around the island as a dozen new aurors appeared, surrounding him and his remaining team.

The next second the area erupted in spell fire. Travers conjured a brick wall, only for it to be demolished a few seconds later, turning to his left he hit an auror with a well-placed blood-boiler. Knowing it would be fatal, he turned his attention back to the battle, dodging a bolt of lightning before dipping into a crouch and firing spells as he started to make his way closer to the shore.

A half dozen inferi began to crawl out of the sea, as the aurors in front of him looked on in horror as they started to attack.

Seeing that the situation was in-hand, he turned to Parkinson. They looked at each other through the holes in their porcelain white masks, gave each other a brief nod, and portkeyed away.

Thomas Rawles moved a strand of thick, gray hair out of his vision and laughed as he sent another Thor's Hammer at the west embankments, causing the well-warded prison to shake in violence.

He cackled again at the destruction he and his team were causing as the man next to him exploded in a scene of gore. Unlike Travers team, he had assembled the most destructive group of people he knew for this mission – hell bent on demolishing the walls of the legendary prison.

Turning back to the group of aurors that had just appeared near the shore, he smiled as inferi began to rise from the sea floor, attacking the aurors from behind.

' _I haven't had this much fun in years!'_ He thought to himself, hurling his favorite spell at the wall in front of him.

A few seconds later a handful of thin-looking prisoners began to emerge. Letting the inferi do their job, Rawles turned to the growing group, motioning for his men to start handing out quills.

"My friends!" Rawles began in his most grandiose tone. "If you wish to accept sanctuary, grab the quill and say, _'I wish to escape.'_ And you will be greeted with fresh food, a warm bath, and a soft bed!"

Marcel DuPont watched as the first wave of reinforcements arrived near the docks. ' _Just as Bellatrix said they would.'_

He frowned slightly as he saw Travers and his team portkey away, ' _cowards,'_ he thought, looking to the west he spotted Rawles in a heated duel with several aurors as a number of prisoners began to emerge from the various holes in the prison walls. _'Lestrange was right about the wards.'_

Throughout planning Lestrange had insisted that for the aurors to rapidly respond to an attack, they had to disable all wards on the prison for a short period of time, leaving the medium security prisoners to be protected by merely brick and mortar.

He smiled ruefully as he took in the chaos below him, his confidence in Bellatrix's plan increasing just a little bit.

' _And she kept her word.'_ He thought as he continued to awaken his friends hiding just beneath the icy waters surface.

That evening he had received word that Caroline LaPointe had succumbed to Dragon Lung, and that Francis was being sworn into office immediately.

The necromancer began humming to himself, directing his army like a maestro conducting an orchestra.

He laughed as he watched his children rip a pair of aurors a part, limb by limb. But that laugh turned into a frown a moment later as a torrent of fire eliminated a half dozen of his friends.

Marcel re-doubled his efforts and continued the attack for several minutes more before the dark mark appeared in the sky above, and he portkeyed away.

From underneath her disillusionment charm, Bellatrix Lestrange stalked quietly down the empty corridor to where she knew the warden slept.

Oh, how she yearned to take part in the greater battle, but she was the only one competent enough to complete the ultimate task, so she steadied herself and continued, reaching the warden's chamber doors seconds later.

Bellatrix was surprised by the lack of protections on the Warden's room; an advanced locking spell and some minor protective enchantments were no match for her, and she quietly entered.

The room consisted of a wardrobe, a small desk, and a bed with a single sleeping figure in it. Quickly casting a ' _Hominem Revelio'_ charm to confirm that it was just the two of them, she stalked forward till she was mere inches from the sleeping man's face, and cast the killing curse, shuttering in pleasure as the spell erupted from her wand.

Taking just a second to enjoy the feeling, she headed over to the man's desk, dispelling of the simple protective charms and grabbing a set of keys before making her trip to the basement, where the maximum-security prisoners were held.

Bellatrix pouted as she took a glimpse outside. Part of her was hoping that the aurors would put up a better fight and she would have to jump into the battle. But that was clearly not the case, between the Death Eaters and the inferi, she wasn't needed.

She felt them before she saw them. Redoubling her occlumency, she focused on her happiest memory, trying to ignore the half dozen or so dementors that littered the maximum-security ward.

The Patronus Charm had always been difficult for her, but with some focus, she was able to send her swan after the disgusting creatures, driving them to the far side of the ward.

"Oh, husband dearest!" She cooed, deciding to have a little bit of fun. "I've missed you!"

"Bella?" A raspy voice croaked out. "Is that you?"

Bella scowled. She forgot how annoying Rodolphus could be, always stating the obvious… although he did seem to be in better shape than his idiot brother, who was staring intently at the wall a few cells down. _'They will need more help than I thought.'_

"No. It's that stupid mudblood girl Dolohov used to keep as a pet, I've developed an attachment to him and long to see him again." She replied sarcastically, unlocking several cells as she did so.

Her husband smiled, briefly embracing her. "Is our Lord back?"

"Not here." She replied, as she gathered Rabastan, Crouch Jr., Rookwood, Dolohov, Avery, and the others, handing them a quill.

"We have much to discuss."

And with that, the group of Death Eaters portkeyed away.

* * *

He woke from his nightmare with a start. Shaking his head, the thin black dog slowly transformed into a thin, pale man.

Taking a second to orient himself, Sirius Black took a glance outside the small window in his cell, catching a glimpse of spell fire as another explosion shook the ancient prison.

' _The Order? Have they come to rescue me?'_ He grinned maniacally, before a frown settled across his face. ' _No… this has to be Voldemort.'_

Down the hall, he could hear Crouch Jr. yelling in derangement. "They've come for me father! They've come to free me from your prison!"

" _Shut up."_ Was the frustrated response of Rookwood from the cell next to Crouch. "Or I'll make sure the Dark Lord leaves you to rot."

He had become accustomed to the insane ramblings and haunted screams of the other prisoners. He had even gotten used to viewing his former colleague at the ministry, Augustus Rookwood, as a traitor.

His thoughts were disrupted by a massive silver swan chasing away the dementors.

" _Oh husband dearest!"_

The voice of his cousin filled him with fear as he transformed back into Padfoot and retreated to the corner.

He watched subtly from the corner of his cell as Bellatrix blasted holes in several walls, before using a key to free the rest of Voldemort's most loyal Death Eaters.

"No time to waste, dear husband." He saw her pause to hand the others something, ignoring the shouts of some of the inmates left in their cage. "We don't have time to waste here."

And with that Bellatrix and the others were gone.

Padfoot collected himself, taking a glance around the cage he noticed a small hole in the corner of his cell where bars met concrete.

Lying down on all fours, the animagus inched his way forward, ducking his head under the bars and out towards the corridor. Lying his canine body on his side, he slowly scooted his way out of his cell.

For the first time in ten and a half years, Sirius Black was able to see beyond his cell. Heading in the direction he had heard Bellatrix enter from, he quickly found himself in the middle of a battle.

Keeping to the shadows, Sirius watched as a group of inferi began ripping the limbs off of several aurors.

He felt a brief urge to try and help the aurors; _'they abandoned you, Black. Ignore them and escape with your life!'_

He steadied himself, noticing a dock with a rowboat at it several meters away, the black dog began to make his way towards the sea.

It wasn't the best plan, he knew. There was a high likelihood that he would be attacked by inferi the second he tried, but he couldn't stay.

As if responding to his thoughts, the inferi disappeared and the spells stopped as the attackers escaped to safety.

In the moment of quiet he took stock of his surroundings, noticing a broom and a wand next to a dead man in black clothes and a white mask, he grabbed both in his mouth before seeking out cover.

Ducking behind a crumbled wall, Padfoot became Sirius, and picked up the dead man's wand, feeling magic for the first time in over a decade.

He frowned as his magic felt weak. Taking a deep breath, he cast a quick disillusionment charm on himself; the charm worked as he felt as though someone had just cracked an egg and dumped it on his head.

He looked down at himself, seeing a faint shimmer, he frowned. _'That won't last for long.'_

Mounting the broom, Sirius pushed off and soared into the air, a twisted grin on his lips as he flew higher and higher.

' _So smooth!'_ He thought as he soared into the slowly rising sun, glancing down he saw, on the glossy handle, the words ' _Nimbus 2000'_ engraved. ' _I wonder if James has one of these?'_

He thought as he rose gleefully into the air, heading towards the mainland.

Sometime later an exhausted Sirius Black landed in the woods, collapsing into a pile of leaves.

Ignoring the pain coursing through his body, he hid his stolen wand and transformed into Padfoot.

A slow, five-minute walk later, the dog found himself on the side of a muggle road. Taking a glance around, he saw a diner some ways down the road.

A half hour later Sirius was having the best breakfast he had had in years. A busboy taking the trash out had seen Padfoot's thin figure and had returned with sausage, bacon, eggs and a dish of water.

He ate greedily, not taking the time to savor the delicious taste of bacon, or the cheesy eggs he assumed he'd never taste again.

' _I better leave.'_ He thought. _'Muggles don't like strays in their towns.'_

Sirius vomited into the leaves. Exorcising his meal in a disgusting mess of half-digested food, his body unable to stomach the grease after all his malnourishment.

He was at a loss of what to do next. He was sure he was a wanted man by now, and with no resources he had precious few options.

Coming to a quick realization, he began to calm himself. Running through the exercises his father drilled into him when he taught him occlumency.

Once calm, he grabbed the wand next to him, and called forth his magic _slowly. 'I don't need to splinch myself.'_

As ready as he'd ever be, Sirius Black took a deep breath, disappearing with a _crack._

He reappeared a moment later in the woods near his family's ancestral home.

Transforming back into Padfoot, he made his way down the empty street to #13 Grimmauld Place.

He felt a pleasant warmth as the family wards recognized him, and the bleak townhome became visible.

Hesitantly he reached for the door knob for the first time in 15 years. The last time he had been in this house his mother had sent a crucio at him.

The door creaked slightly as he quietly stepped in.

The entry hall was covered in dust, while the disgusting house elf head memoriam stuck to the wall to his right was covered in cobwebs.

' _I wonder…'_ He thought to himself. House elves lived extraordinarily long lives. ' _It could be possible…'_

"Kreacher!" He called out.

A decrepit looking elf appeared in front of him a half-second later. Staring at him with wide eyes.

"Nasty, traitor Master has called for Kreacher?" The miserable elf's usual sneer seemed to be laced with shock; ' _probably surprised that I'm still alive.'_

"I want you to run me a bath, make up my room, and grab me the appropriate potions. I've had a lengthy stay in Azkaban, so I'll need the strongest nutrient potions we have on stasis, as well as some dreamless sleep potion."

The old elf grumbled, but otherwise disappeared with a pop.

An hour later, Sirius Black was soaking in his bath, trying to sort out his emotions through tears as the adrenaline from the previous 18 hours began to wear off.

He cried as he remembered the loss of his best friend and his wife.

He cursed in anger as he recalled his foolish actions, rushing right into _Wormtail's_ trap. That anger was soon directed at the Ministry for throwing him in jail without even charging him with a crime.

But most of all he felt guilty. Guilty for leaving James and Lily's child all alone. Guilty that he couldn't be Harry's godfather.

With a sudden determination he called out.

"Kreacher!" The elf appeared with a soft pop.

"Grab me a quill and some parchment, please." A plan beginning to form in his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

" _Arthur!_ " The shrill ginger witch bellowed from the kitchen counter, clutching a copy of the 'Daily Prophet' in her left hand. "Get down here!"

The rat moved a little closer to Molly Weasley, parking himself right under the table and out of sight.

A few seconds later a tall, lanky middle-aged man appeared in the kitchen.

"What is it dear?" Arthur Weasley replied, tightening the knot on his shabby tie.

She said nothing and handed him the paper. "How do you think this happened?" Arthur replied, fear evident in his voice.

The rat was paying full-attention now, waiting for _someone_ to tell him what was going on.

"The Prophet speculates that Lestrange led a group of dark wizards to free her _cousin."_

It took the rat a minute to realize what they were talking about, and he smiled internally before weighing his options.

' _The Dark Lord must be getting stronger.'_

Five minutes later Peter Pettigrew was at the edge of the Burrow's property line. Turning into a human once again, he disappeared with a light pop, hoping that Lucius could find some use for his talents.

* * *

Harry sat alone in the common room, ignoring the jealous stares and frightened murmurs directed his way.

That morning's announcement in the Prophet - speculating that Bellatrix Lestrange had orchestrated a deadly breakout at Azkaban to free his _godfather,_ had most of Hogwarts assuming that Black was on the way to kill him, and that Harry's mere presence at the school was inviting danger.

He didn't even know he had a godfather before this morning.

' _Why didn't anyone tell me about Sirius Black? Why did I have to learn from the Daily Prophet?'_ His anger continued to simmer as he failed to focus on his herbology essay.

His parents had been betrayed, according to the Daily Prophet, by his father's best friend! The story described how brave Peter Pettigrew, his dad's other best friend, had confronted the insane, dark wizard. Only to be killed (along with 12 muggles) by an enraged Sirius Black, seeking revenge for his master's downfall.

The whole story had spread through Hogwarts like wildfire. And by lunch the whispers had started.

He could have handled the jealous stares on their own, easily enough. _'Let them believe I got special treatment'_ he thought to himself. _'They don't know how hard I've worked.'_

Upon learning a few days ago that he had been placed in third year charms and transfiguration, Anthony Goldstein, and surprisingly, Padma Patil had begun telling anyone who would listen that he thought he was better than everyone else just because he used his fame to get put into third year classes.

' _It couldn't possibly be because I'm better than them. Bastards.'_

Terry had found the whole thing hilarious.

And his friend was probably right. If he had only been dealing with the jealous idiots, he could have laughed the thing off.

But it was the vicious bullying that came with that article that made him the angriest. He thought as he watched Goldstein loudly talk about the curse of Harry Potter to some scared-looking first-years.

"...just avoid Potter." Goldstein said to a nervous looking first girl, pointing him out in the process. "Spend too much time near him, and you might end up dead!" The girl jumped in fright before Goldstein tried to soothe her. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

The girl nodded her head appreciatively and seemed to relax, as Michael Corner stood by quietly.

Not even a year ago Corner had stood up for him in the wake of Hermione's death. Now, it seemed, that he had turned on him as well.

The thought of his friend made his mood even worse.

"Five points from Ravenclaw, Goldstein." The disapproving voice of Roger Davies weighed in. "Ravenclaw's keep a level head and use logic. We do _not_ spread rumors and bully each other just because you may not like someone."

With watery eyes, he gave the prefect an appreciative nod before packing his things up, and racing to his dorm before the tears came.

* * *

His brother's establishment was practically empty, Albus noticed as he took a seat across from his potions master.

"Albus." Severus greeted.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet me, Severus."

The younger man nodded in response, as Albus Dumbledore placed several privacy spells around the table.

"So, Severus. What have you gathered about last month's breakout?"

The potions master frowned slightly.

"Bellatrix Lestrange organized the attack."

"I'd gathered that much, Severus. What I want to know is _who_ else took part."

The man took a sip of his tea, he could almost _see_ the indecision on Snape's face. Dumbledore sighed and not for the first time he wondered if it was wise to trust the slippery spy. Still, he was his best source of information, and he couldn't afford to be unaware of Death Eater activities.

"Bellatrix, Marcel DuPont, Eric Travers, Thomas Rawles, and Jebediah Parkinson were the main perpetrators."

Albus nodded, _'that would explain the inferi.'_ Very few people had the ability to control a large number of inferi with any effectiveness.

"How did Bellatrix convince Marcel DuPont to help her?"

The French wizard wasn't the generous sort, he would want some sort of payment for his services.

"I am uncertain, but it is my belief that she offered him a way to end his exile."

Albus stroked his beard in thought. "I believe the death of Caroline LaPointe was far less natural than I first thought."

Severus nodded, "Dragon Lung is an airborne disease. If someone were able to obtain a vial of it and release it in her home, it is likely to she would contract the disease. But I don't see how her death benefits him."

Severus Snape had always been less politically inclined than himself, still he was somewhat surprised that the man hadn't seen the obvious.

"His nephew, Francis was her second in command. With her gone, he is serving out the rest of her term."

"But how does that benefit the necromancer? Didn't Marcel kill the man's father?"

He sighed, for all his talents, Severus was incredibly inept in certain areas. "Marcel is suspected of killing his younger brother, yes. But from what I've gathered Francis was not overly upset about the loss. He lived with Marcel until he reached his majority. I believe that with Francis in power, Marcel will soon end his exile."

The potions master nodded his head. "But why do you think Bellatrix attacked when she did." He said with a slight frown.

"I believe Bellatrix assumed Voldemort would be successful in his return and planned the attack as a surprise for him."

Snape nodded his head in acceptance.

"How did Lucius take Quirrell's failure." The headmaster desperately needed to know the man's response to the defeat; _'did he still believe that Voldemort could return?'_

Snape tapped his fingers on the table in thought. "Lucius was… disappointed. I don't think he considered that his plan might fail."

"Disappointed?" He answered with a hint of curiosity.

"Yes." The other man responded. "He has told me to hold on to the ingredients I acquired last fall."

"So, Lucius believes that Voldemort must have made more horcruxes." He said more to himself than to Severus.

Coming to a quick decision, he looked Snape in the eyes. "I want you to maintain your closeness with Lucius, and report anything of interest to me."

The shadows of a frown began to take shape on Severus's face, before disappearing a half-second later. "Of course."

"I'm going to continue to research possible horcruxes, I'll have to leave the castle for a few days. I want you to watch Nott and Avery while I'm gone."

Severus nodded again and finished his tea before silently excusing himself.

Remembering where he was, Albus dispelled the privacy charms and made his way to the bar.

"Aberforth! How have you been?"

* * *

Despite Davies warning, his housemates hadn't stopped looking at him in fear. Goldstein had managed to convince his dorm mates to distance themselves from him, they wouldn't want to be seen being friendly with a hunted man, Goldstein had said. And to Harry's disappointment, most everyone seemed to agree, even if they weren't as boisterous as Goldstein.

Grabbing his invisibility cloak, Harry silently made his way through the common room before slipping out.

Fifteen minutes later found him in the dungeons; _'maybe Lily is around?'_ He thought, making his way towards the Slytherin common room.

While most of the school had gone out of their way to avoid him, the black-haired Slytherin, however, either didn't care, or hadn't seemed to notice that he had become somewhat of an outcast.

He smiled. She had cornered him after their first potions class and demanded that he continue to tutor him in charms and transfiguration. The sense of normalcy had helped him stay sane.

He stopped, taking in an interesting portrait he had never noticed before.

A dark-haired man was sitting in a dusty clearing, playing his punji as a large, green snake with yellow eyes began to sway to the hypnotic tune. The snake charmer seemed to stare through his cloak, smirking at him for a second as Harry stood transfixed at the swaying snake.

As the music continued to play, the world around him disappeared, it was just him, the man, and the snake, still swaying to the beat. Without thinking, Harry heard himself hiss.

To his surprise, the portrait faded away, revealing a small, wooden door. He hesitantly reached out and twisted the knob.

Stepping through the door, torches lit up automatically. The small room was impossibly clean, he noticed as he took it in. _'Must be some sort of enchantment.'_ He thought to himself.

The walls had no posters, portraits, or any other distinguishing features besides a small desk, placed in front of a large bookcase filled completely with books and bound scrolls of parchment.

' _What is this place?'_ He thought, making his way to the desk, he noticed several locked drawers, and frowned.

Turning his attention to the bookcase, he picked up a thick, untitled book, and the scroll of parchment sitting next to it, opening to the table of contents, he smiled.

' _A book on cursed objects?'_ He thought to himself, delighted to find a book on a topic he knew nothing about. Setting the book aside for a moment, he opened the accompanying scroll of parchment.

" _Chapter One, Notes."_ He read the tidy handwriting centered on the top of the parchment. _"Placing a curse on an object follows the same principals as enchanting an object..."_

Opening the book to the first chapter, he began to read.

Several hours later Harry set the book down. The book and accompanying notes had been invaluable. _'Who wrote these notes?'_ He thought to himself.

Checking the time, he cursed. He had missed dinner. Grabbing the book and parchment, he exited the room and headed towards the kitchens. Promising to return the next day.

* * *

The pair worked silently. Lily working on her history essay, while Harry was working on enchanting his wooden block.

He'd made significant progress since he'd found the secret room a week ago. After he had read a few chapters on cursed objects, he had been able to find a nice book that went into greater detail on enchantments. It wasn't just pushing a stream of magic into an object, to successfully cast an enchantment, you also needed to visualize the permanence, something Flitwick had neglected to mention, and something the book didn't go into detail on.

Picking up his wand, he shut his eyes. He visualized making the block glow permanently, thinking about an older Harry picking up the glowing blue block. He took a calming breath and tapped the block with his wand; he felt his magic course through him as his it began to glow. Only time would tell if he had been successful.

"What are you doing?" Lily asked, staring at the glowing block in interest.

"I'm trying to enchant this thing to glow." He replied.

"Enchanting? When did you learn how to enchant?" Her blue eyes bore into his. There was something satisfying about impressing her.

He frowned slightly. "I don't really know how to enchant. But Professor Flitwick went over the theory with me this summer, and I've been practicing ever since."

Lily nodded. "How far ahead are you?"

He thought for a second. "I just started practicing inanimate to animate transfiguration, I'm about mid-way through third year charms as well." He said, pleased with himself. "And I would be ahead in defense as well, if we were actually learning defense."

Lily let out a groan. "Lockhart is a menace! Does he honestly think anyone gives a shit about his books?"

Harry laughed. "You mean you don't want to hear about how he single-handedly defeated a Yeti, then was wined and dined by the Nepalese Minister of Magic?"

"I'd rather listen to Malfoy talk about his family." She deadpanned.

Harry reached into his bag and pulled out a defense book. "This is what we're _supposed_ to cover for second year." He said, handing her the book. "I'm helping Terry with defense, you're more than welcome to join us."

She offered him a rare smile, a determined look on her face. "I'd like that."

Lily pushed him, so did Terry. Getting them together in a room could only help him.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while longer.

"Harry…" she said, the slightest bit of trepidation in her voice. "Are you worried?" she said before quickly adding; "I mean about Sirius Black? People seem to think he's going to try and kill you."

The truth is he _was_ worried. Since the breakout he had been pushing himself to exhaustion, trying to prepare for a possible attempt on his life.

Dodging her question, he responded; "why aren't you avoiding me, like the others?"

She shrugged. "He's not after me, and you're too useful to avoid." She paused for a second; "why do you think Azkaban was attacked."

Harry wanted to tell her what he knew about Voldemort, he was _dying_ to tell someone, anyone about the prophecy and how Dumbledore believed Voldemort would return. But he couldn't, he couldn't run the risk of losing one of two people in the school who would still speak to him.

"I don't know. But if I see Black, I'm going to kill him for what he did to my family." And he was serious. The first chance he got he would kill the man who destroyed his life.

She laughed softly. "You remind me of Daphne."

Harry raised an eyebrow and she continued. "She said the same thing about the Lestrange family."

Harry was confused. "Why does she want to kill the Lestrange's? I got the feeling that the Greengrass family were supportive of Voldemort."

She let out a shiver at Voldemort's name. "Like many pureblood families, the Greengrass's generally agreed with the Dark Lord's political agenda, but their family has a history with the Lestranges. As long as they supported him, Alfred and Victoria wouldn't."

Harry sighed, he'd have to unravel that mystery later.

"Come on. I need help turning this book into a candlestick." Lily said, changing the subject. "You can get back to your obsession with my friend later." She teased as he demonstrated the proper wand movements for her.

* * *

"Alright second years! We're only taking one of you!" Phillip Bigsby bellowed.

The four second years nodded.

"Yes sir!" Goldstein responded.

' _Kiss ass.'_

"The four of you are going to be put through some basic drills. The loser of each drill, will be eliminated."

From next to him Goldstein smirked.

"What are we doing, sir." Patil asked in curiosity.

Bigsby smiled. "The first drill will test your shielding and dodging. The four of you will stand in separate pits as the team fires at you, you get hit, you're eliminated. First person eliminated is out. You," he pointed at Corner, "pit number two with Powell. Goldstein you're with Edgecombe, Patil you go with Fenwick, Potter you're with me."

Harry smiled. He had been doing this all summer.

Bigsby opened with a barrage of stinging hexes. _'Guess he's not going to take it easy on me.'_

Harry crouched and stepped to his right before rolling forward.

Coming out of his roll he had to fight the temptation to fire back, instead choosing to erect a protego to absorb the stunner sent his way.

He dodged again, narrowly avoiding a jelly legs jinx. _'Damn he's fast.'_ He thought, shielding against an aquamenti.

He lasted another thirty seconds before he felt his wand slip from his hand and the spells stopped.

"Great job, Harry." Bigsby smiled at him warmly.

From the side he noticed Goldstein give him a glare and Harry smirked. _'That'll shut him up.'_

Bigsby gathered Harry, Patil, and Goldstein, moving them over to a firing range with 10 targets sitting 25 feet away, three of which were moving.

"This one's simple. Ten spells of your choice. Whoever hits the most wins, loser is eliminated. The tie goes to whoever used the largest variety of spells."

Padma began, opening with a stunner, her spell found the closest target with ease, lighting it green in the process. She followed up with a body bind, expelliarmus, jelly legs jinx, and another stunner, hitting the next four with ease.

Taking a short break, she continued, missing the first moving target. She hit the other two stationary targets with ease, before hitting the vertical target narrowly. Lining up the last, moving, target she fired - her spell going wide right.

Padma smiled as Goldstein pushed his way forward. His spell work was decent enough, Harry thought as the boy dispersed of the first three targets using mostly first year spells.

He missed one of the stationary targets, to Harry's amusement, before dispersing of the three moving targets with ease, going nine out of ten.

Ignoring Patil's worried face, Harry smirked. Shooting an aquapilatum, his ball of water finding the first moving target. He lined up the next one, and with a muttered percutere the piercing curse erupted from his wand, lighting up the second moving target.

His stunner found the third moving target with ease, and he gave Goldstein a smirk, before hitting the next seven quickly.

The entire team was present as Harry bowed to Goldstein.

The final test was a duel.

Harry could barely contain his excitement as he dipped into his stance, opening with a quick jet of water, smacking Goldstein in his face.

The boy frowned, firing a stunner in return.

Harry dodged, following up with a stunner, a reducto, and sagitta in rapid succession.

Goldstein's eyes went wide as he shielded the stunner and reducto before diving out of the way of his arrow.

Taking a second to let Goldstein gather himself, Harry savored the feeling of finally being able to take revenge.

He stepped out of the way of the bone breaker and Harry raised an eyebrow; ' _I didn't know he could cast that.'_ He returned fire with his own bone breaker, narrowly missing the boy's wand arm, before hitting him straight in the nose, transfiguring it into a pig's snout.

From the sidelines he heard laughter.

Goldstein glared hatefully at him, letting loose a snort.

He took a second to savor his victory before hitting the boy with an expelliarmus, officially ending the duel.

"Great spell work Harry!" Jerome Powell, a sixth year, patted him on his shoulder.

"Impressive technique, Harry, welcome to the team!" Bigsby spoke up.

He idly noticed Marietta Edgecombe glaring at him as Powell continued; "I _loved_ your style."

Goldstein joined Edgecombe in glaring at him, but Harry didn't care. He'd made the team.

* * *

A light rain fell as she and Nymphadora turned up the sidewalk towards the entrance of Grimmauld Place. A look of disdain must have shown on her face, catching her daughters attention.

"What is it, mother?" Her daughter, sporting black hair with dark blue highlights asked.

It had been more than twenty years since Andromeda Tonks had returned to her childhood home, and now she was returning to listen to the ravings of a madman. ' _I must be going insane.'_

"Nothing, Nymphadora. Please try and keep your wits about you. Sirius was a dangerous man before Azkaban, I can't imagine what a decade with the dementors has done to him. You may be competent, but I fear you're no match for my cousin."

' _That out to piss her off.'_ She thought to herself with a smirk. The usage of her first name along with the implication that she wasn't a skilled enough witch to deal with what she presumed to be a magically damaged lunatic should be enough to keep her vigilant.

A moment later the pair were standing in the dimly lit parlor room of Grimmauld Place.

The house was just as depressingly dark as she remembered, although she had expected the place to be a tad dirtier.

"Kreacher!" Her cousin croaked, voice raspy from disuse.

To her surprise the unpleasant elf from her childhood was not only alive, but now glaring at the three of them intently.

"What does the traitors and disgusting halfblood be wanting?"

' _Interesting.'_ She thought. _'Maybe Kreacher doesn't know of Sirius's past?'_

"Tea for three in the study."

Andromeda Tonks took in the man in front of her, trying to compare him to the man she knew a decade ago.

The two had never been close; Sirius was closer to Narcissa's age than her own. But in his youth, he had been an athletically built young man with a sharp wit and handsome features.

A decade in prison had taken its toll.

His once handsome face drooped in malnourishment and mental anguish. Lively, dark eyes had been replaced with empty, black orbs; and the lean muscle that once covered his tall body had all but disappeared.

The last Black was a pathetic looking figure.

"Thank you for coming Andromeda." His raspy voice spoke, the smallest measure of gratitude seemed to come through.

She felt herself begin to relax. Luckily her daughter still had her wand above the table, pointed at her cousin.

Sirius seemed to notice her hostility, and as if he was just noticing her presence, addressed her for the first time. "Nymphadora?"

She scowled. "You can call me Tonks, Mr. Black."

The sickly man just nodded his head, and, in a gesture of good faith, set his wand on the table in front of them.

She relaxed, and with a look, her daughter lowered her wand. Though Andromeda had a sneaking suspicion Nymphadora was still pointing her wand at Sirius from beneath the table.

Deciding to move the conversation forward, she responded; "I got your note, Sirius. And I want you to know, that if I don't like what I hear, I will turn you in right now."

He just nodded, and in an instant his demeanor changed.

Sirius leaned forward, a crazed look in his eye, and a crooked, yellow smile adorned his face.

She tensed slightly.

"I didn't do it Andi!" He said in a boyish tone, adopting his childhood nickname for her.

His tone shifted slightly again. "It was the damn rat. That damn rat did it all, but it was my fault."

' _He's not credible.'_ She thought to herself, the barrister in her coming out.

"Sirius!" She shouted. The escaped criminal snapped out of it and a sense of normalcy returned.

"Sorry about that… well, did you bring the veritaserum?" He responded, moving the conversation forward a bit.

She nodded. "Do you have the pensieve?"

He nodded as she withdrew her wand, telling him to focus on the memories he had wrote her about.

A much younger Sirius paced the dimly lit room. Across from him a shorter man with brown hair and hazel eyes looked at him, an amused look on his face. Next to said man a pretty red head was holding a small child.

"The Potters." Nymphadora spoke from next to her.

"Wha - what happened?" Sirius spoke up, turning to face the other man.

James Potter took a calming breath, before exchanging a look with his wife.

" _He_ led a strike on the Manor."

Sirius opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Potter.

"I don't know how he got past the wards." James had apparently anticipated his friends question, leaving Sirius to think quietly for a moment.

"And the Manor?" Sirius questioned, hesitation in his voice.

"Fiendfyre." James Potter couldn't keep the tremble out of his voice, and Lily placed a comforting hand on his forearm, speaking up for the first time.

"It's all gone, Sirius." The beautiful woman responded.

Sirius steadied himself. "What are you going to do?"

Lily responded quickly. "The Fidelius Charm. We need you as our secret keeper."

Anger started to build up inside her. "Did you bring me here to confess your guilt, Sirius?"

"Just watch." Was his sad response.

"Lily, I - I can't be your secret keeper."

"Bullshit, Sirius." James responded. "You're the only one we can trust."

Sirius just shook his head. "And you _can_ trust me. But the two of you, and Harry, are number one on Voldemort's kill list."

The trio exchanged a knowing look. ' _That's interesting.'_ Andromeda thought to herself.

"And I'm number one on Bellatrix's list." The younger Sirius continued. "I don't think the two most wanted men in the country should have that sort of connection. If something were to happen to me…"

"Then you go under Fidelius too!" Lily responded. "I can cast it for both of us, James can be your secret keeper."

James nodded, Sirius pondered. "No. No it can't be me. There's been too many close calls lately. I'll go under Fidelius if it comes to that, but the Death Eaters need a visible target to focus on. I'll be that distraction."

The conversation continued like that for a few minutes, before James caved.

"Fine." James responded. "If not you, then who?"

Sirius thought for a second; "Peter."

James and Lily exchanged a look. "Peter Pettigrew will be our secret keeper." Lily responded a second later.

"Take it!" A distraught Sirius said, pushing a motorbike towards the half-giant in front of him.

"Make sure Harry gets to Dumbledore safely. I'll be by in a couple of days, there's something I need to do first."

"Are you sure, S'rius?" Rubeus Hagrid responded.

"Of course! I'll pick it up in a few days."

A moment later the three of them were in the parking lot of a petrol station. A much younger Sirius was shouting at a small, pudgy man.

"Peter Pettigrew." She mumbled to herself.

"Peter!" Sirius yelled out, drawing the attention of several muggles, and the smaller man.

"How could you, Sirius!" The shorter man shouted out.

Confusion, then anger flashed across the younger Sirius's face. The older Sirius next to her had his head in his hands, refusing to watch the scene.

"How could you betray Lily and James?!" Pettigrew responded as a loud explosion rang out across the parking lot, screams of terror could be heard as flames overtook most of the area.

The younger Sirius was launched through the air and across the street, landing with a loud _thud_ he began to _laugh._

The chilling laughter continued to build till it was more than a little maniacal and by the time the aurors arrived a few minutes later, the only magical presence around was an insane Sirius Black.

The memories ended, leaving the three of them alone in the study. Next to her Nymphadora's hair was rapidly changing through a variety of colors, signifying her own array of emotions.

Andromeda collected herself, reaching into her pocket to grab a small vial.

"Your tongue, Sirius." She said, responding in a much nicer tone than before.

For the first time she caught a shimmer of relief in her cousin's eyes, as a tear fell down his face.

"Your name?"

"Sirius Orion Black;" was his response.

"Did you betray the Potter family to the Dark Lord?"

"No."

"Are you guilty of any of the crimes you have been accused of?"

"No."

"Have you ever been a Death Eater?"

"No."

"Who betrayed the Potter's to the Dark Lord?"

"Peter Pettigrew."

"Who killed those muggles on November 1st, 1981?"

"Peter Pettigrew."

"To the best of your knowledge is Peter Pettigrew still alive?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any idea how he escaped prosecution for the events of 11/1/1981?"

"I don't know. But he is a rat animagus."

She frowned; ' _we can go over details later.'_

She administered the antidote.

"I'll take your case, Sirius."

He smiled, and she gave him a hug.

"What charges were you brought up on, do you remember?"

He gave her an angry look. "I was held under the Parkinson Amendment. I was never charged with a crime."

To his surprise she laughed.

"What's so funny?" He asked her angrily.

"It means clearing your name just became easier, cousin."

* * *

"It feels _good_ to be outside!" The brown-haired boy said, extending his arms outwards and twirling around in a circle, Harry did his best to keep from laughing as Terry's glasses fell off his face and onto the grass near his feet.

Zabini didn't bother to control his laughter, as the normally quiet boy let out a snort; "settle down, Boot." The dark-skinned boy said, offering a rare smile; "there's no need to act like a _Gryffindor."_

From besides Zabini, Lily laughed.

It _did_ feel good to be outside. The four of them had spent the first Saturday in October revising for next week's midterms, mother nature had rewarded them with an absolutely beautiful Sunday morning.

Lily silently handed him a pillowcase, an expectant look on her face.

He smiled, quickly transfiguring it into a large blanket, lying it on the shoreline under a tree. His smile turned to a smirk as he removed several quills, quickly transfiguring them into four, basic lawn chairs.

Lily offered him an approving nod. "You've improved on your inanimate to larger inanimate transfiguration. How is your inanimate to animate transfiguration coming?"

To answer her question, he pulled out his _'transfiguration block'_ as he liked to call it; stealing the idea from Tom Riddle's notes on transfiguration.

The boy's notes and the accompanying book collection had quickly become his most valuable resource.

Muttering to himself he made three quick motions with his wand, eliminating the unnecessary half-oval at the beginning.

He noticed Zabini watch in curiosity as the block of wood transformed into a perfectly animate Guinea Pig.

While Zabini seemed impressed, and Terry, having seen this before, looked bored; Lily gave him an approving look.

"Impressive." She leaned her chair against the trunk of the tree; "what do you want to do with transfiguration? You've never told me why you like the subject."

He pondered his reply for a second. Growing up surrounded by things yet having nothing of his own had helped harvest a petty _desire_ to possess objects. Having the ability to create his own fascinated him. There were also the dueling possibilities.

Deciding to go with the later, he looked around at the group. The other three were giving him their full attention.

"Transfiguration is the precursor to conjuration. Both can be used in a duel, or a brawling tournament."

Brawling tournaments. Ever since Powell had explained the four-dueler battles duelers could participate in on the professional circuit, Harry had been obsessed with the idea of a wide-open fight.

Part duel, part obstacle course, part treasure hunt. Duelers were given free-reign of a large area. The pit generally contained natural impediments, and sometimes creatures, to eliminate their competitors and collect certain items from around the pit.

"You sound like Daphne." Zabini responded, as Lily laughed.

"Why does everyone always say that?"

"You're both obsessed with dueling, and you both scare people." Terry responded.

His reply was cut off by Lily; who for once seemed to be taking pity on him.

"How's the enchanting, Harry?"

He realized he now had an uncomfortable amount of attention coming his way from Zabini.

' _Maybe she's not taking pity on me.'_

The Italian boy leaned in closer, staring him in the eyes. For a second, he thought he felt something in his mind, and looked away.

' _Occlumency… occlumency and warding, that's what I'll study this afternoon.'_

A few days earlier he had found a small book on something called mind magic and immediately dove into the subject with curiosity.

The description of what legilimency felt like had reminded him of both Snape, and Dumbledore… ' _and Quirrell.'_ He reminded himself; and now he had felt it again from Zabini.

' _How common was legilimency?'_

"Enchanting is going okay." He said casually, removing a glowing, blue block from his bag.

"The 'Bones' method?" Zabini replied curiously. "How long have you managed so far?"

"This one has lasted almost a month, so far." He responded with pride. "Are you interested in enchanting, Blaise?"

The boy nodded his head. "My mom is an enchantress." Blaise responded, shooting Terry a quick glare as the bespectacled boy let out a laugh.

"She began teaching me over the summer."

"What's your best time?" Harry asked. ' _I wonder if I'm better.'_

The attractive boy shook his head. "I'm using the Dolohov method."

' _That was a bold thing to say.'_

Lily shot Blaise a glare and elbowed him.

" _That's_ interesting." Terry replied. "How do you manage the power for that _particular_ method." He let the question hang in the air.

There were several ways to learn any discipline. There was the steady way taught at Hogwarts, where students slowly developed their magic over years.

Then there was the quick way, using brute force and strength to try and get some semblance of the discipline right as quick as possible, only taking time to refine it after the fact.

The later method was exhausting and could only really be harnessed after a young witch or wizard had spent several years growing their magic.

Blaise gave Lily a slightly nervous look. "I did a couple of rituals over the summer with my mum."

Terry gave him an amused look; "rituals to permanently increase your magical strength are _illegal,_ Zabini."

The black boy glared back at the brunette; "not in _Italy,_ Terry. And you're one to talk."

' _I wonder what that means?'_

"Besides. They're not a massive boost, and you still need to _learn_ what you're doing. They shouldn't be illegal anyhow."

' _Occlumency and rituals. Warding can wait.'_

Terry just smiled. "The Boot family would never engage in illegal activities."

"Speaking of Dolohov." Lily started calling attention to herself. "He was spotted in Knockturn Alley the other day."

"What do you think they're up to?" Terry turned to him for the answer, but Blaise beat him to it.

"I'd bet that Lestrange and Black are planning something. No doubt Dolohov is involved."

Lily just frowned. "He's a psychopath."

And he was, Harry thought. Professor Nott had begun covering the war with Voldemort, and Antonin Dolohov was known as one of his most vicious followers.

"Bellatrix Lestrange is definitely planning something." Terry agreed. "But I'm not so sure on Black. Less is known on him." Terry shot him an apologetic look. But he shrugged it off, deciding to reply.

' _Maybe they know something I don't?'_ He had learned nothing about his godfather other than the fact that he was a Gryffindor and his father's best friend.

"What do you mean."

" _Well…_ nothing is really known about how he became a Death Eater." Harry nodded, urging him to continue.

"What we do know is that almost everyone in his family supported some sort of dark lord in their lives. But in the last war, their seemed to be two exceptions. Andromeda Black and Sirius Black.

Andromeda was publicly disowned from her family for marrying a muggleborn, and Sirius Black was an auror who's best friend's family fought prominently against the Dark Lord."

"Yes, but he was a spy who showed his true colors when he betrayed my parents." He countered. "Only the secret keeper could betray them."

"True." Terry responded. "But no transcript of his questioning was ever released. Minister Bagnold and Tiberius Ogden threw him in jail citing the 'Parkinson Amendment.' So, we'll never find out _what_ actually happened."

Harry was shocked as the conversation drifted in more mundane directions.

' _What the hell is the Parkinson Amendment?'_

* * *

"...and that leads us to Bellatrix Lestrange." It was the second Friday in October and all that separated the second year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors from the weekend was History of Magic.

They'd been studying the war with Voldemort for the last week, and as much as Harry hated to admit it, the old curmudgeon was well-versed in the subject.

"Can any of you tell me why she was important?" The ancient wizard spat out from behind his hooked nose, glaring around the room, professor Nott's eyes settled on the hand of Su Li.

"She was he-who-must-not-be-named's most infamous general." The Asian girl replied with certainty.

"That's who she _is,_ Miss Li, not why she was important."

Nott looked around the room again before surprisingly settling on Neville Longbottom, of all people.

"Bellatrix Lestrange was born a Black, Professor." The pudgy Gryffindor began. "The Blacks have a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot."

At the professors urging, Longbottom seemed to gain confidence and continued.

"Her grandfather, Pollux, led the opposition to all sorts of legislation designed to outlaw certain rituals, artifacts and types of magic. Many of which he-who-must-not-be-named used on his rise to power.

Bellatrix Black was a prodigy. Smart, charismatic, and sadistic." Longbottom spat out the last part. A quick look of understanding crossed the professors face, but Longbottom continued.

' _What was that about?'_

"Rumor is she was trained personally by Ophelia Greengrass." Professor Nott nodded again.

' _Maybe that's why Greengrass doesn't like the Lestranges?'_ He frowned, that didn't make much sense though, a tutoring arrangement hardly inspired hatred.

"Bellatrix Lestrange was indeed trained by a member of Grindelwald's inner circle." The professor replied.

"Her recruitment to the Dark Lord's cause gave the Dark Lord a young leader that could lead battles without his presence. For the first time in the war, the Dark Lord could lead a contingent at one location, while Bellatrix Lestrange could lead a simultaneous attack."

The old man paused at this to take a sip of water.

"Her attack on Diagon Alley is what convinced Minister Bagnold and former Chief of the Wizengamot Tiberius Ogden to declare a state of emergency. What is the significance of that, Mr. Goldstein?"

The professor snapped, startling the boy.

"Umm - I - I don't know professor." Goldstein stammered, causing Harry to grin.

" _Worthless child."_ Professor Nott muttered, causing Harry's grin to become a full-fledged smile.

"A state of emergency, Mr. Goldstein," the professor continued, "allowed the aurors, and citizens, to defend themselves with lethal spells. It also triggered the ' _Parkinson Amendment.'"_

The professor had all his attention now, remembering the conversation near the lake last week.

"The Parkinson Amendment allows the government to hold suspected enemies of the state indefinitely without charges, or a trial." Professor Nott spat in disgust. "It's a disgusting violation of any witch or wizards rights."

The bell chose that moment to ring.

"I want two feet on the Ministry of Magic's usage of emergency powers through the last century on my desk Monday!" The surly professor shouted at the emptying classroom.

* * *

" _Preforo!"_ Potter said calmly, hopping away from Bones' stunner with ease.

Daphne had been anticipating this fight since she disposed of the Hufflepuff a few minutes prior. The ease of which Potter had disposed of Weasley had been disappointing and had told her nothing about the boy.

She analyzed his dueling stance.

Wand held by his ear ready to strike like a cobra; stance narrowed and shoulders square, Potter stood in a crouch, minimizing his exposure, most of his weight was on his front foot, prepared to lunge forward with ease.

The way in which he dueled was _very_ distinct. _'What'd that bitch tell him?'_ She frowned.

Lily's infatuation with the boy had grown from interesting little pet project, to an increasingly close friendship. A friendship that was starting to annoy her.

Potter dodged again, unleashing several bombarda's, a reductor, and a punching hex.

Bones' shield cracked under the impressive reductor as the snooty puff was knocked over by the punching hex.

' _Dumb move, Potter.'_ She thought to herself as Potter failed to finish the girl, allowing her to get to her feet.

Bones returned with several spells of her own, as Potter dodged again.

' _He's toying with her.'_ She grinned.

She watched for a few seconds longer before she noticed his movements; ' _left, crouch, step forward, exit crouch, back step, right, left, crouch, step forward, exit crouch, back step...'_

Bones seemed to notice the pattern as well and began firing in anticipation, hitting Potter with a tripping jinx - the boy stumbled forward.

Composing himself, he began firing a rapid barrage of stunners.

' _At least he can cast quickly enough.'_ A vicious smile crossed her features as one of Potter's stunners finally caught Bones in the chest.

A pleasant shiver of anticipation shot through her as she curtsied to the raven-haired boy.

Daphne schooled her features, dipping into an identical stance as her foe she saw confusion come across his face for a second before she caught him smiling dangerously at her.

' _This is going to be fun.'_

They both fired simultaneously.

She pirouetted ungracefully, avoiding his reductor.

' _Damn growth spurt.'_ She thought, returning fire again with a combination of piercing curses and impedimenta's.

Potter dodged the trio of spells with ease. Returning with a bone breaker and incendio.

Another shiver passed through her, a genuine smile graced her face, even as she watched the fire hit her robes.

"Fire proofing charms, Potter!" She taunted. "Lily said you weren't an amateur." She continued, allowing a bit of condescension to creep into her voice. "You _should_ know better."

She could see the _anger_ in his eyes as he unleashed a torrent of bone breakers at her.

Daphne dodged again; _'there we go.'_ She smiled.

Potter was fighting with viciousness.

' _You can hardly blame a girl for defending herself in-kind.'_

Deciding to test her theory she began sending a variety of low-level jinxes at her opponent.

' _left, crouch, step forward, exit crouch, back step, right, left, crouch, step forward, exit crouch, back step...'_

She smiled. _'Same pattern.'_

It was then that she upped the ante, catching him with a piercing curse.

She heard the disapproving reactions from the crowd as a trickle of red escaped from Potter's left-shoulder.

' _Nothing illegal about our spells. Fools.'_ She thought.

Potter grimaced but returned fire.

A smile formed on her lips as she continued to send spells to the left of the boy, forcing him closer and closer to the edge of the circle.

Potter seemed to notice her strategy and responded in desperation.

" _Sagitta, Cannoventus, Aquapilatum"_ He yelled.

She dodged the arrow as a layer of black smoke encompassed the dueling pit, then her eyes widened in surprise as a large ball of water erupted from the smoke.

" _Contego!"_ She shouted, shielding for the first time, praying the advanced shield would work.

To her delight the shield held. She took a second to reposition herself, before shooting out a gust of wind followed by several stunners.

An array of light came from her right, and she continued with her previous strategy, exhausted from the strenuous duel.

Potter's spells were coming less frequently now as well, and with a lot less power.

' _Time to finish this.'_

The smoke having been cleared, she saw a bleeding Potter in the same position he was ten seconds ago.

Her stunners seemed to snap him out of his daze as he stepped forward then hopped left to avoid her piercing curse, and right out of the dueler's circle.

"Victory, Slytherin." The referee called out.

She smiled triumphantly.

Cocking her chin in victory she offered her opponent her hand.

"Not bad, Potter." She said with superiority, then hesitated slightly. "There's a pattern to your movements, it makes you easy to predict."

The boy frowned. "Thanks, Greengrass." Then he offered her a roguish smile that looked slightly out of place on his face. "I look forward to the rubber match at the end of the year."

She stared blankly for a second, digesting his words before giving him her most haughty look.

"You're assuming you'll beat me in February, Potter."

And with that, Daphne Greengrass turned on her heel, and walked away.

' _Maybe Lily was right about him after all.'_

* * *

Harry was sitting in the room he'd found, the dueling book by Greengrass's relative that he had received from Terry the Christmas prior opened in front of him.

He hadn't realized how similar his dueling strategy and Greengrass's had been until the previous weekends duel.

Harry had watched Greengrass at dueling club during their first year. Having never had the chance to duel her himself, he hadn't noticed the similarities in their style. But on the platform, it became all too apparent as the blonde girl danced around her circle.

The previous year the girl hadn't been nearly as nimble - but puberty had found Greengrass, and she had thinned out significantly and now stood taller than him.

He rubbed his left shoulder subconsciously where her piercing curse had hit him. It had _hurt_ more than any spell he had ever been hit with. His summer duels with Filius had him dodging low-level jinxes and hexes - rarely was he dodging anything that could cause him actual pain.

Her taunts had pissed him off, causing him to lose his cool.

Still, despite the loss the duel had been the most exhilarating thing he had ever taken part in. He meant it when he told her he'd win the rubber match.

Pushing his dueling book aside, he grabbed a book on rituals from behind him.

There was no shortage of books on rituals in the room - Tom Riddle had been particularly fascinated with the brand of magic.

He'd initially sought out the topic after Blaise's admission that day by the lake.

His initial reaction had been disappointment. The ritual Zabini had undertook, the 'Ritual of Josephine,' was beyond his comprehension. Thankfully, Riddle had run into the same issue.

 _Having discovered the 'Ritual of Josephine' I'm loath to admit that the ritual is beyond my current abilities; containing several runes that are beyond even my understanding._

 _Professor Slughorn was kind enough to lend me several books on rituals to help me prepare for the 'Ritual of Josephine,' and has promised to supervise any rituals I decide to undertake. He has also suggested I meet with Professor Brookings to discuss any runes I do not understand._

Harry flipped through the book on introductory rituals, pausing at a ritual that would temporarily increase his ability to build magical strength.

He smiled; he recognized these runes from the fourth-year runes book. _'It will take some time, but I can do it.'_

His eyes then caught the still-locked, top left drawer of the desk and frowned. He still didn't know how to unravel the wards on the drawer.

He sighed. _'So much to do.'_

* * *

Andromeda Tonks stared at the other occupants of the room. It was early December, and a bound Sirius Black sat calmly next to her.

Today was the day they had been preparing for.

"Good afternoon Madam Bones, Chief Warlock Dumbledore." She began politely.

"Mrs. Tonks." Was Amelia's curt reply as she eyed the restrained man to her left with distrust.

"Andromeda." Dumbledore replied with more warmth.

"Thank you for agreeing to this meeting. My client," she gestured to Sirius, "is here on his own accord to clear his good name."

Madam Bones scoffed, but Dumbledore eyed them curiously.

"That is quite the proclamation, Andromeda."

She frowned, not entirely comfortable with the familiarity.

"On the contrary _Albus_ , Sirius Black has suffered a great injustice. I intend for Sirius Black to leave the meeting with an apology, as a free man."

She ignored a comment of doubt from Bones and continued. "My client has agreed to be questioned under veritaserum, you may ask him any questions you like. Additionally, we would like to use your pensieve to show you both several memories that prove my client is innocent of any _accused_ crimes."

"Very well." Bones replied. "Let's get this over with."

So, she showed them the memories, going through her well-practiced narration of her cousin's story.

An hour later Amelia Bones and Albus Dumbledore had wrapped up their interrogation of Sirius.

"Your client does appear to be innocent, Andromeda." Amelia Bones spoke up, much more civil than earlier.

"I will call for a trial for early next year."

She smiled. "That will be unnecessary, Amelia."

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement gave her a questioning look, but one look at Dumbledore told her that he understood.

"Am I correct to believe, Sirius, that you were held under the Parkinson Amendment?" Dumbledore spoke up, addressing Sirius for the first time.

"Yes, headmaster." Sirius croaked out, still not used to speaking.

"Sirius Black was never charged with a crime, Madam Bones." Andromeda smiled triumphantly. "All I need you to do is call off the aurors and issue a proclamation of innocence and my client is a free man."

"Fudge will never allow this!" Amelia sputtered. "You and I both know that. The man won't do anything to jeopardize his image."

"Call him in here, Amelia, we have prepared for this."

After the initial outburst, Cornelius Fudge had stormed out of the office, returning five minutes later with a half dozen aurors demanding Sirius be kissed on sight.

"You will sit down, Cornelius." Dumbledore commanded calmly from the front of the room, hitting the Minister of Magic with a silencing charm.

Another hour later and Fudge looked at her, a resigned look on his face.

"What will you have me do, Andromeda?" The Minister got out. "I agree that this is a great injustice, but the panic this would cause? The ministry cannot afford to look weak, it would cause a panic!"

"Not if we do it right, Minister." Her plan was exceptionally simple, and she had no doubt it would work. "At the time of Sirius Black's arrest, I believe it was Barty Crouch who oversaw the Department of Magical Law Enforcement - you were still in charge of the Department of International Cooperation, if memory serves me."

The bald man rubbed his chin in thought. "Yes, it was Crouch who signed off on anything to do incarceration." He said aloud.

She smiled; "with Minister Bagnold's approval, of course."

"Yes, I had nothing to do with this injustice."

Her smile broadened. "If anything, Minister, you're righting the wrongs committed by a corrupt ministry against a war hero."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Chief Warlock beam.

"Delores! I want you to schedule a press conference for tomorrow night. It's time this administration rights the wrongs of its predecessors."

* * *

 **Sirius Black Cleared of All Charges!**

Was the Prophets headline, as Harry numbly read the article.

" " _Lord Black, accompanied by his Barrister, Andromeda Tonks, turned himself into the custody of Amelia Bones and Albus Dumbledore for questioning late last week." Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic said at a press conference Monday evening. "Upon questioning, a grave unjust was discovered by Amelia Bones, my administration's head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, perpetuated by the Bagnold Administration."_

 _Sources tell the Prophet that Peter Pettigrew, not Sirius Black, betrayed the Potter's to the Dark Lord. The same sources disclosed that it was Pettigrew, not Black, who killed 12 muggles and before escaping justice in November of 1981. It is presumed that Pettigrew is still at large…."_

Harry read the rest of the article in silence, as a whirlwind of emotions threatened to escape him.

 _Doubt._ That the article could be accurate.

That doubt gave way to _distrust_ towards his godfather. Even if the story was true, why didn't his father's _best friend insist_ on being their "secret keeper."

That distrust finally gave way to the _anger_ he felt towards the ministry for allowing his innocent godfather to suffer in jail for a decade.

Setting the article down, he turned his attention to the owl that had landed next to him. Grabbing the letter, he unrolled the parchment.

The tidy, cursive letter was from his godfather. He was coming to Hogwarts to spend Christmas with him.

Setting the letter down, Harry nervously composed a response before turning to leave the great hall. Hedwig had a letter to deliver.

Albus Dumbledore pushed his was through a set of creaking silver gates as the falling snow covered the path in front of him.

He was visiting an old acquaintance of his who may have run into a young Tom Riddle years ago at Borgin and Burkes.

Knocking softly on the door, he was greeted a minute later by a barmy old witch with thin white hair.

* * *

"Albus!" Hepzibah Smith greeted him. "It's been so long."

"That it has, Hepzibah." He smiled gently, pressing his lips softly to her knuckles.

"Please, come in."

"Lunky!" The elderly lady screeched as he grimaced; "bring us tea to the study."

Albus followed the slightly younger lady into an extravagant study painted in a rich maroon, with gold furnishings.

All around them were shelves filled with various artifacts, and knick-knacks, all collected by the Smith family through the centuries.

"I heard my great-grandson is enjoying his second year." Hepzibah commented as she took a sip of Earl Grey.

He nodded; "Zacharias is an impressive quidditch player."

The lady smiled. "He takes after my oldest son, that one does. Never could keep him off a broom either."

"What can I do for you, Albus. I know you didn't come here to talk about Zacharias."

Albus was happy to dispense with the chit-chat and decided to cut right to the chase.

He had spent the last several months writing down, and re-examining everything he knew about Tom Riddle. The man held Hogwarts in high-esteem and knowing that he had used one of Rowena's heirlooms as a horcrux, he shifted his attention to other significant items belonging to the founders.

His research had led him to Helga Hufflepuff's legendary cup, said to have some healing properties.

The Smith family were Hufflepuffs descendants, and Hepzibah used to proudly brag about her family's cup. It was entirely possible she had run into a young Tom Riddle and bragged about her families prized possession.

"Hepzibah, do you still frequent Borgin and Burkes?"

The witch eyed him questionably; "I know you're feeling on the shop, Albus; but they have connections that hold importance to me."

He smiled at her reassuringly; "I'm not judging you, Hepzibah. I was just curious."

Taking a sip of tea, he continued. "I was just wondering if you ever told anyone at that store about your family's cup."

The slight, white-haired witch just gave him a frown. "What cup are you talking about, Albus. My family has lots of cups." At that she gestured towards several jewel-encrusted goblets on a shelf behind her.

He frowned; _'there is only one cup in this family.'_

"Forgive me Hepzibah, I was under the impression that your family had an heirloom from Helga Hufflepuff."

The old witch gave him a confused look and laughed. "I believe you've finally lost it, my friend." She replied, offering him a smile.

He returned her smile.

' _She ran into Tom after all.'_ He thought to himself as he left a half hour later.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

" _Surdis, preforo!"_ Harry bellowed, dodging Bigsby's stunner.

The dueling captain shielded, returning with a wide-area fire spell, forcing him to shield in return.

The sixth-year pressed his advantage, following up with a transfigured wolf.

Harry's eyes widened in temporary horror as the wolf bound towards him. Schooling himself, he killed the thing with a reductor before firing back a barrage of blasters.

The older boy shielded again, shooting a few arrows at him in response.

Harry ducked, tucking into a roll to avoid the arrows…. Only to roll into a stunner.

"Not bad, Harry!" Phil praised, offering him his hand.

"You're still a little predictable in your movements, but that will come with time. The more you practice, the better you'll be at anticipating."

He smiled. Since his impressive performance in the first duels Phil and Jerome had been taking the time to work with him before and after practices, and while Jerome had gone home for the holiday, Phil had stayed at the castle to prepare for his NEWT's, to Harry's benefit.

"I heard you're meeting your godfather today, are you nervous?" Phil asked casually, tossing him a bottle of water as they headed back upstairs.

The truth was he _was_ nervous. He hated the man a few weeks ago, only to find out everything he had been told was a lie? It was difficult to comprehend.

"Kind of… Until a few weeks ago I thought he was a murderer, now I'm spending Christmas with him. It's weird, you know?"

The older boy nodded in understanding. "Sounds awkward."

He shrugged. "It is what it is." He smiled. "Get anything good for Christmas?"

"What's he like, sir?" He asked the headmaster as they stepped out from behind a suit of armor, and into the designated room on the caste's second floor.

Dumbledore observed him thoughtfully; "Sirius Black was smart as a whip, well-liked, and your father's best friend. The pair of them, along with a few others, were quite mischievous in school." The headmaster said fondly.

Harry frowned, that didn't answer his question. But before he could reply, the headmaster continued; "he has, however, spent the last ten years as an innocent man in the most miserable environment known to man."

Dumbledore ended, sounding far more cheerful than he felt was appropriate.

"He's alright, mentally, right?" _'Last thing I need is to be attacked by a lunatic.'_

"It will take time for him to recover fully." The headmaster replied sagely; "but never to fear, my boy! I'll be right there with you. Should the worst occur."

Feeling decidedly less confident, Harry walked through the door.

The three of them stood quietly for a moment, before the thin man in plain black robes seemed to notice him, his eyes lighting up.

"James!" His godfather shouted, wrapping him in a firm embrace as he tensed from the unexpected contact.

"It's been _so_ long! How's Lily? And Harry, he's got to be close to 2!" Sirius Black's dim eyes seemed to brighten up at the mention of him.

' _At least he seems to care about me?'_ He thought to himself. _'Or at least my dad?'_

"Sirius." Dumbledore interrupted the still rambling man softly. Sirius seemed to re-orientate himself, taking a step back and flashing him a sheepish grin, looking him up and down once more.

"Sorry about that, Harry." He replied nervously, looking anywhere but his face.

His godfather took a deep breath, before looking him in the eyes. "It's going to take me a while before I'm right in the head, but I promise, I will recover, and I will be the godfather you deserve to have."

Harry gave him a distrusting look before tentatively stretching out his hand, deciding to give the man a chance; "Harry Potter." He said, formally introducing himself.

The other man seemed to relax slightly; "Sirius Black."

"So, what do you mean by recover?" He asked, curiously.

Lifeless eyes stared back at him, causing a chill to run up his spine.

"I spent the last decade reliving my worst memories." He shuttered. "I'm seeing several healers. I should make a full recovery, but it will take time."

"How do you recover from something like that, sir?"

Sirius frowned; "call me Sirius, Harry."

The man seemed to lose himself for a second, then continued. "The ministry has been kind enough to provide me with the countries finest healers. It's the least they could do, really."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"So, where do you live?"

They spent the next hour getting to know one another. Harry told him about his friends, his love of magic and dueling. While Sirius told Harry about his dad's love of quidditch and mischief, and his mum's fascination with charms.

"Did any of you duel for Gryffindor?" Harry asked curiously.

Sirius shook his head, shooting Dumbledore a grin; "Albus didn't allow dueling at Hogwarts when we were in school… for some reason"

The headmaster scoffed; "It would have been a nightmare; you and James caused enough trouble without sanctioned duels to encourage you."

"Preposterous!" His godfather proclaimed.

Harry smiled, he was beginning to understand that Sirius liked to make people laugh, even after ten years in prison.

"We were innocent of all charges!" He finished with a grim laugh, giving Harry a wink.

Harry smiled. "Were my parents good with a wand?"

Sirius thought for a second; "Lily was brilliant at charms and potions, and slightly above average in everything else. James, however, was brilliant with a wand, and pretty terrible at everything else." He said with a sad smile.

He returned the look.

"Harry," Sirius began, nervous suddenly, shoving a package in his hand; "since I had never met you, and didn't know what you liked, I had to guess on your Christmas present, and I had heard you were on the dueling team... I hope you like it."

Harry slowly unwrapped the paper and took a second to observe the rectangular box in front of him, opening it up to reveal several blue and bronze robes with the Ravenclaw crest on them. Removing them from the box, he noticed how light the pair of robes were.

"Dueling robes." His godfather said. "One for practice, one for competition. They've got the standard protection spells on them."

Harry smiled broadly. "They're brilliant!"

Sirius just smiled back at him.

With the promise to write, lunch ended a few minutes later.

 _'I can't wait to show Phil these!'_ He thought to himself, heading back towards the common room, thinking that the lunch hadn't been that bad after all.

* * *

"Shut up, Rodolphus." Bellatrix said as they stepped through the tall, arching walkway into a circular room adorned with torches.

"You know why we're here." She snapped.

Prior to his stay in Azkaban, Rodolphus had been the epitome of masculinity. Tall with wide shoulders; sharp, regal features and dark blonde hair. Her husband had been likable enough, if not a bit dim, with a decent sense of humor and a strong name.

That was before his stay in Azkaban.

The prison had changed the man she loved. His regal features and beautiful, lively, blue eyes had been replaced with sagging skin and a haunted look.

The man in front of her was stupid, paranoid, and temperamental. The healers Lucius had provided proved worthless; unable to assure her that Rodolphus would make a full recovery. Bellatrix was wondering if all the effort it had taken to free the prisoners had been worth it.

Before he could respond, the bickering couple were interrupted by the entrance of a portly wizard with pale skin entering through a previously unseen door.

"Lady Lestrange!" Marcel DuPont greeted cheerfully.

' _France has done wonders for his mood.'_ She thought to herself.

The necromancer then turned to her husband, giving him a peculiar look. Foregoing any greeting, the elder wizard lowered himself a few centimeters, getting close to Rodolphus' face, examining his every feature, prodding him with his wand on occasion and mumbling softly to himself.

Her husband growled impatiently. "What do you think you're doing?" The Death Eater snapped.

Grabbing Rodolphus' arm she shot him a glare before turning her attention to DuPont.

"Marcel!" She snapped, allowing a bit of hatred to seep into her voice. The French wizard suddenly found himself with a wand in his face.

Bellatrix grabbed her husband's arm possessively, not lowering her wand. " _Step away from my husband."_ She growled.

Seemingly unperturbed, DuPont stepped away from Rodolphus. "Forgive me, Lord Lestrange. I lost my composure for a second."

Rodolphus puffed out his chest, narrowed his eyes, and took a step forward. "What do you mean you _lost your composure?"_ He replied, pulling his own wand out as he did so.

She purred in satisfaction. _'There's the man I married.'_

A look of danger passed across Marcel's face before he replied; "I don't believe anyone has had the opportunity to study someone who has spent significant time in the presence of dementors."

The man paused, "the effect they have on the soul interests me."

A plan was already beginning to form in Bellatrix's mind. _'This could work much better.'_ She thought, abandoning her original plan instantly.

"What can I do for you, Lady Lestrange?" The danger had retreated from his voice; ' _this man is exceptionally useful.'_ She reminded herself. _'We must remain civil.'_ She scowled slightly; _'at least until Lucius gets his little meeting.'_

"How have you found your return to France?" She replied, schooling her features, _'best to make some small talk with the old aristocrat.'_

"Agreeable enough." He nodded, a small smile on his face. "Bolivia was uncomfortable and lacked certain… resources. My research suffered greatly."

She returned his smile, _that_ she could relate to. "And how's Francis enjoying his promotion?"

DuPont frowned. "I wouldn't know." His frown deepened. "My nephew allows me a certain level of protection but refuses to meet me in person. Apparently, I hurt his career."

It was her turn to frown. "Has he denied you any comforts? Is there anything I can provide you with?" She probed.

The old necromancer shook his head softly. "No, nothing like that. He's quite eager to keep me pleased as long as it doesn't require a physical meeting between the two of us."

Bellatrix smiled slightly. "That is why I'm here - I would like you to ask your nephew to meet with Lucius in-person when he visits on behalf of Fudge this March."

"And why would I help you?" Marcel questioned.

She gave him a predatory smile; "I will let you study my husband."

From next to her she saw Rodolphus' hateful glare, but he said nothing. He understood the importance of this meeting.

The necromancer appeared to be deep in thought. "I will need to study your husband over the course of several months."

Bellatrix nodded. "That can be arranged, provided you set up that meeting."

Marcel smiled warmly at her. "I will write my nephew immediately." He walked over to Rodolphus, putting an arm around his shoulder and leading him to a door.

"Pierre!" He snapped. "Show Lady Lestrange to the dungeons." Marcel then turned to her; "I have some guests down there I have no further use for. Why don't you make yourself comfortable while I run some diagnostics on your husband?"

It was her turn to smile. _'That couldn't have gone better.'_ She thought, as she followed the hideous looking Pierre through another door.

* * *

"We're going to the third floor near Babbling's classroom, right?" Terry asked for the third time.

" _Yes_ , Terry." Harry sighed. Terry gave him a small smirk, hanging a quick right.

At his questioning look, Terry said; "I overheard the Weasley twins talking about a passage behind the twirling cupid statue. It's supposed to lead that way."

Harry shrugged, gesturing forward, "After You."

Terry always seemed to know the secrets of the castle. There was a passage for everything.

Five minutes later the pair were setting up their cauldrons in an unused classroom on the third floor.

"Why are we doing this again?" Harry groaned.

"Because I'm going to be on the advanced syllabus next year and won't be there to save your ass."

"I'll pay you not to go on the advanced syllabus. Name your price." He was serious. He'd _barely_ scrapped an "O" last year.

"You can't afford me Harry. Taking my OWL and NEWT's early will give me more time to study law and finance."

The look on Terry's face told Harry he wouldn't change his friends mind. Resigned, he sighed.

" _Fine._ What are we brewing, anyways?

"Bone-strengthening potion." Terry replied. "We're brewing it in March, so it's not too advanced."

Harry nodded.

"Counter-clockwise Harry!" Terry yelled, as he slowly stirred his silver ladle, a Christmas gift from the boy, in a counter-clockwise direction.

' _One...Two...Three,'_ he counted in his head before quickly adding a half-stir clockwise. It wasn't in the directions. But he knew, from Terry's coaching, that a full-stir would ultimately make his potion a little too thick.

Harry removed his ladle and smiled as Terry inspected his potion.

"Not a bad first attempt, Harry. But you added a little too much gillywater. While it doesn't render the potion useless, it does weaken it a bit."

His smile turned into a slight frown. "I thought it was good."

"It was." Terry nodded. "But Snape would probably give _you_ an "A."

He groaned.

"How's that potion your mom was creating, going?" Harry asked curiously. From Terry's boasting right after break, it sounded like it could be a groundbreaking.

"The Wolfsbane Potion?" Terry smiled. "It's going great. She got her patent approved last week."

"What's its purpose?" _'A galleon says it has something to do with Werewolves.'_ He thought to himself.

"The potion allows Werewolves to maintain control of their mind on the full-moon."

' _Someone owes me a galleon.'_

Harry sat in thought for a second. "Is it kinda like occlumency?"

Terry wore a look of shock. "You know about occlumency?"

Harry just grinned; "yeah, why?"

"Who's teaching you?" Terry asked.

"I don't have a teacher." Harry frowned.

Terry just shook his head. "Wolfsbane is kinda like a temporary occlumency shield that allows the person to keep their mind… I think." He added.

Then Terry grinned again. "You promised to show me the spells you were working on."

" _Ardere Sagitto!"_ She heard a familiar voice from an unused classroom down the hall.

' _What the hell?'_ She thought, as she watched several arrows impale themselves on the chalk board.

Potter smirked at Boot. "accio arrows!" The dark-haired boy said.

A second later two arrows were flying towards his hand.

"Damn." She heard Potter say. "I only got two of them."

Daphne brushed a few strands of blonde hair out of her face to get a better view.

Fifty feet in front of her Harry Potter and Terry Boot were talking quietly to themselves.

A half second later, with a jab she heard a cry of, _"Ruo Flagram!"_ as weak, black fire whip sputtered out of Harry's wand.

' _Dark spells Potter?'_ An impish grin on her face, _'Lily was right about you, you are full of surprises.'_

"I'm getting kinda tired, Terry." Potter responded. "One more and I'm leaving."

She watched him intently as he waved his wand around the room. _"Reparo Fortis!"_

Daphne could tell he'd had plenty of practice with that one, as the room quickly repaired itself.

Taking one last glance at the Ravenclaws; she snuck away, a look of contemplation on her face.

* * *

"Mipsy!" Harry called.

To his surprise, a half second later, a tiny house-elf appeared in front of him. _'I can't believe that worked.'_

A few minutes ago, Hedwig had arrived in the great hall with a package from Sirius. Not wanting to open it in front of everyone, he had run to the portrait in the dungeons, sealing the entrance to his room behind him as he entered.

"What can Mipsy's be doing for you?"

Curious, Harry asked; "Mipsy, will you answer me anywhere in the castle?"

"Yes Mr. Potter, sir; Mipsy will answer calls within the castle." She nodded enthusiastically, floppy green ears covering her eyes as she did so.

He smiled. "Could you bring me some lunch, please?"

Mipsy nodded and disappeared with a pop.

Turning to the letter in front of him, he began to read.

 _Harry -_

 _I'm feeling much better, thanks for asking. I have submitted a petition to the Wizengamot that would allow me full custody of you this summer. My barrister tells me it's a long-shot, but I am going to try nonetheless._

 _After talking with you at Christmas, I took it upon myself to make copies of all the photos I have of your parents. The album is arranged in order from oldest to most recent._

 _Best of luck in your duels next weekend,_

 _Sirius_

Harry smiled as he flipped through the album. The pages were filled with all sorts of photos of a young Sirius Black and James Potter playing quidditch, standing by the lake, or terrorizing some of their other friends.

He looked at one of an angry looking redhead around his age sending curses at a young James Potter in what he assumed was the Gryffindor common room and smiled as he read the inscription on the back.

" _In our third year, your father spent hours trying to transfigure a rose for your mother. When he thought he got it right, he approached Lily in the Gryffindor common room to ask her to Hogsmeade. What he didn't know was that Moony and I cursed it to shoot ink when he had gone to puke in the bathroom a few minutes beforehand. This is the result."_

Harry laughed, _'I wonder who Moony is?'_

He penned a quick response, before setting it to the side. He turned to the locked drawer on the desk in front of him and cast a quick diagnostics charm.

He frowned. _'Five months.'_ That's how long he had been trying to figure out how to unlock the mysterious drawer. He had never had so much trouble with anything in his life. Even more, he didn't have the first idea what the wards did, except that they would cause him pain if he tried to force his way in.

He sighed and turned back to the picture. _"Cursing an object is just like enchanting…."_ Riddle's notes had said.

Smiling, he took out his glowing, blue block, jotted a few notes in his notebook. _'Forty-two days.'_ That's how long it had been since he had had to recast the charm on the block.

He grinned as he thought of Sirius cursing a flower to shoot ink at his mum.

Taking out a quill he thought for a second.

" _Coma Caerula!"_ He said tapping the quill.

The quill glowed, and a quick diagnostics spell later confirmed that the hair-coloring curse had worked. Until the curse wore off, anyone who touched the quill would find themselves with blue hair.

After jotting some notes down on a new sheet of parchment, he pushed it all aside and picked up his wand,

Pointing it at the chair in front of him he whispered _'gemino'_ a few times, leaving him with a handful of chairs.

Flicking his wand, the first chair quickly became a larger desk, then a wooden box, then a metal lawn chair.

Switching his focus, he continued the next set of spells. Finishing with the list Flitwick had gave him before Christmas with a whispered _'ardere sagitto.'_ Impaling the chair in front of him with half-dozen arrows.

Turning to the third chair he smiled. A young Tom Riddle had described a similar exercise in some of his notes.

" _Ruo Flagram!"_ A small, black, fire whip attached itself to the end of his wand, he flicked his wrist and the fire cut through the chair, before quickly dissipating.

' _Finally!'_ It had taken him nearly three weeks, but he had finally gotten the flame whip to work properly. ' _Now all I have to do is strengthen it.'_

Remembering his duel with Greengrass; he concentrated, and using the same wand movements as ' _protego,'_ he yelled _'contego!'_

A dull silver glow emanated from around him. Unlike the protego charm, contego, when cast properly, would conform to the shape of the casters body, moving with him as he dodged.

Unfortunately, his attempt was far from proper and his silver shield hung near him but burst as he moved.

His next few attempts were little better, and he frowned. _'I need to get that before next Saturday.'_

Jotting down some more notes, he moved onto the next spell on Riddle's list.

" _Fulminis!"_ He shouted, waving his wand erratically.

Nothing happened.

Checking the notes in front of him he frowned, practicing the wand movements a few more times before trying again.

" _Fulminis!"_ He yelled again, his wand movements more in control then on previous attempts.

Still nothing. His frown deepened, and he sighed. Taking out his notebook, he began to jot down his observations.

Tired, he decided to skip ancient runes and find Terry.

' _Maybe we can spend the evening playing chess?'_

He thought, exiting the room.

* * *

"Galleon says Potter wins the rematch." Blaise said from next to her.

She watched as Harry and Daphne bowed to each other to start the last second year duel of the night.

She idly wondered if they scheduled it this way on-purpose. "Deal." She said, her eyes not leaving the duel, as they each began their opening salvo. "Daphne is too quick for Harry."

She frowned. As she had said that Daphne dodged right into his bombarda, getting knocked to the ground. Rolling out of the way, Daphne returned fire with several stunners, providing her with a few seconds to get back on her feet.

"Besides; Daphne says Harry uses too many spells in his duels."

Blaise grunted from next to her.

In the pit Harry was dodging a series of piercing curses with ease. _'He's improved.'_ She thought with approval.

While Harry had always been a great student and shown plenty of determination; his tutoring with Flitwick over the summer had pushed him well-beyond everyone in their year, including the girl he was dueling against.

' _Daphne really hated that.'_ She thought amusedly as her friend finally caught the Ravenclaw with a jelly-legs jinx.

Harry, according to Daphne, used too many spells to be a real threat to win, the result was lots of mediocre spells. According to the green-eyed girl, in duels, it was best to stick to a small arsenal of spells you could cast rapidly and with power.

At least until you were more experienced.

Daphne, she noticed; liked to stick to stunners, piercing curses, reductors, and bombarda's.

"Daphne may be quicker." Blaise broke the silence from next to her. "But Potter is stronger."

' _Damn she's fast!'_ Harry thought to himself with a grin. Greengrass was an exceptional dueler and was the only one in their year who could compete with him in the pit.

" _Contego!"_ He shouted. A silver shield appeared, hanging slightly off his body, he allowed the piercing curse to crash harmlessly against his shield, moving to the right, he returned fire with an arrow.

Greengrass ducked, sending a tripping hex his way.

Harry jumped to avoid it, getting hit with a reductor.

Feeling his shield shatter, he immediately dodged to the left.

" _Aquapilatum."_ He yelled.

A large ball of water erupted from his wand, and Greengrass' eyes went wide.

He smiled, then followed up with a quick _"glacius."_

Just like in practice against Edgecombe, the ball of water froze into a ball of ice.

Greengrass didn't have time to shield as the ball of ice hit her in the chest, launching her out of the circle and into the protective wards surrounding the pit.

" _Victory, Ravenclaw."_ He heard the official say as he rushed towards the blonde girl, only to pause.

Greengrass was now standing, walking towards him with a murderous look on her face.

He stood his ground, returning her glare.

Greengrass hesitated, her look softened slightly as she seemed to change her mind about something. "Good duel, Potter. I look forward to beating you in May." She said, grasping his hand briefly before turning on her heel and stalking away.

' _Sore loser.'_ He thought to himself, a look of beguilement on his face.

"Who the hell does he think he is?"

Her friend ranted as they entered the common room.

"I know." Lily replied. "He cost me a galleon."

Daphne turned to her, a look that promised pain clear on her face.

' _Get over yourself Daphne.'_ "Oh please, Daphne. Get over yourself, it was one loss. You said he was good, so quit bitching."

"I am _not_ bitching!" The other girl yelled, catching the attention of several other Slytherins in the common room.

Lily just raised an eyebrow.

Daphne deflated a bit. "I _should_ have beat him." She said, looking her in the eyes. "But I underestimated him. What's the strongest spell you've seen him cast?" She asked, curiously.

Lily pondered her question for a second. "And you called him a stalker for watching you in Diagon Alley?" She mumbled.

"What was that?" Daphne growled, her cheeks turning red. Whether it was anger or a blush, she didn't know.

"He was trying to cast ' _fulminus'_ last week."

Daphne balked at her. "That's an intermediary _lightning_ elemental spell." Her friend said, looking at her in disbelief.

"Well I never said he was successful." Lily replied. "He did manage a bit of lightning with ' _debiles fulmen'_ though."

Daphne looked at her thoughtfully. " _I_ can do that." She puffed with pride before adding; "I want you to spy on him for me before the final. I can't let the Ravenclaw beat me again."

Lily flashed her a look of amusement. "Sure, thing Daphne."

* * *

' _Tempus'_ Lucius Malfoy cast silently. ' _He's late.'_

He frowned, then cast a silent cooling charm on himself. It was unusually warm for Paris in March.

A few minutes later, the receptionist ushered him into Minister DuPont's office and shut the door.

"Lord Malfoy." The tall, honey-blonde haired man greeted.

"Minister DuPont." Lucius replied with grace. "Thank you for seeing me." _'As if you had a choice.'_ He added silently.

Francis DuPont seemed to be thinking along the same lines and offered him a forced smile. "Of course. How can I help you?"

Lucius smirked viciously; " _Imperio."_ He said quietly, getting straight to the point.

The Minister's eyes widened briefly before taking on a more glazed over look.

Lucius smiled to himself as he made the man sign a couple of blank pardons. _'You never know when these could come in handy.'_ Forcing the French Minister to record the pardons in the official records, he smirked at his quick thinking.

Waiting another five minutes he commanded DuPont to stand up and escort him out or the office.

Stepping into the floo he allowed himself a small smile; _"Malfoy Manor, Worcestershire."_ He enunciated, disappearing into the flames, the first part of his plan working to perfection.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore observed the pepper-haired man down the street from under his disillusionment charm.

' _Walden has put on weight.'_ He smiled to himself, following the man deep into 'Whispering Alley.'

Whispering Alley was a pleasant neighborhood located off a street towards the south end of Diagon Alley.

He followed the man past several boutique's, and pubs filled with young purebloods, down a side-street past several expensive looking townhomes.

It had become a sort of tradition among the wealthy pureblood families to maintain a townhome or penthouse in the alley for their children to live in upon graduation from Hogwarts.

Walden Macnair used his for visiting his mistress.

The headmaster stopped at the edge of the wards, dipping around the corner to keep watch.

Several minutes later a well-built young man he recognized as Rupert Macnair disappeared behind the wards.

' _He's not supposed to be here.'_

Dumbledore frowned. Rupert was a good young man, he didn't want to get him involved if he could help it.

Albus had been following Walden Macnair for several days, hoping to get him alone.

The man had been one of the highest-ranking Death Eater's to escape Azkaban after the war, if anyone may have a lead on some of Voldemort's secrets, it was this man.

An hour later he saw Rupert exit the wards, alone.

He frowned, before acting.

Quickly hitting the former Head Boy with a stunner, he followed up with a disillusionment charm, hiding the young man from sight.

Dragging Rupert into the side street, Dumbledore cast several wards and conjured a table and a chair.

Taking out a silver knife, Albus Dumbledore cut the boy's wrist, gathering his blood into a beaker before healing his wound.

Removing several beakers from inside his midnight purple robes, he began to combine the contents, adding the blood in last and drinking it in one go.

He glanced at Rupert's eyes, slipping into the boy's mind for a few seconds to learn the layout of his father's townhome before erasing Rupert's memory and reviving him.

The boy looked around confused for a second, before apparating away.

Walking towards where he knew the townhouse to be, a small iron gate appeared in front of him for the first time.

He felt the warm ripple of the blood wards accept him as he walked down the well-groomed stone path.

The townhouse was beautiful, he admitted as he took in the white panels covered in ivy.

Removing his silver knife once again, he cut his palm - smearing the blood on the door in front of him.

It opened with a slight creak and Albus took a right towards where he knew Walden's study to be.

The living room was comfortably decorated with dark leather couches and several oak tables but was otherwise void of decoration. Albus continued straight and paused at the entrance to the study.

Walden Macnair was sitting next to the fire enjoying a glass of firewhiskey, reading a book with a grin on his face.

Wasting no time, Dumbledore hit the man with a stunner.

The man's mind had minimal protections, he thought as he tore through Macnair's memories, focusing on anything associated with known Death Eaters.

He paused at a recent memory of a meeting at Malfoy Manor.

" _Will you be ready, Walden?" Antonin Dolohov asked._

 _The younger man nodded. "Let Bellatrix know she can count on us."_

Dumbledore dug further but found no more information on what Bellatrix Lestrange was planning.

' _I wonder…'_ He thought, focusing on memories of Bellatrix Lestrange.

It was a memory of Rodolphus, not Bellatrix, that caught his attention.

A much younger Walden Macnair was having dinner with Rodolphus Lestrange at what he recognized as Lestrange Manor.

" _What's troubling you, Rodolphus?"_ The rough voice of Macnair inquired.

The athletically built blonde grunted in frustration. _"Bellatrix and our Lord are keeping something from me."_

" _Do you know what?"_ Macnair followed up.

Lestrange appeared to lose his patience at the follow up question. _"If I_ knew _then they wouldn't be keeping it from me."_ He growled. " _All I know is that she has been entrusted with an item of importance."_

Dumbledore probed deeper but there was nothing else of value, and he exited his mind.

Taking some time to browse through the townhouse for anything of use, Albus Dumbledore felt pleased with how the evening had gone.

* * *

Harry sat on his bed with his legs crossed and his eyes shut, it was 5AM and he was working on his meditation.

Meditation, he had learned, was a gateway to occlumency.

He steadied his breathing, taking in deep, even breaths he allowed himself to fall into a soft rhythm.

Meditation, regarding occlumency, consisted of four preparatory steps. He had finally gotten to a point with step one, breathing, that he was now working on step two.

Harry searched his senses. Remembering the smell of the salty sea air, the feeling of his feet dangling over a cliff as the sun set over the Strait of Dover. In the background, he remembered the sound of the crickets, chirping.

The objective of the second step was to visualize a relaxing memory, allow it to replay on a loop, blocking out all outside distractions. That would eventually give way to visualizing a single image, and sometime later - complete darkness.

The goal was to condition his mind to go blank, allowing him to detect foreign intrusions.

His mind began to wander as he thought about that day, Filius teaching him _reparo_ after he had broken a vase with an errant spell in mid-June.

' _Dammit.'_ He thought to himself, his concentration broken.

With a sigh he got up and began to get ready for the day.

 **Bellatrix Lestrange Granted Sanctuary in Bulgaria!**

The Prophet read, as he frowned.

 _In a surprise move, last night Bulgarian Minister for Magic, Grozdana Dimitar, announced that wanted terrorist Bellatrix Lestrange has been granted political asylum by the Bulgarian government._

" _After meeting with Lady Lestrange, and considering recent events, I am convinced that the British Ministry of Magic would not allow Lady Lestrange a fair trial. Until my administration is assured that Lady Lestrange's rights are not being violated, we will allow her to stay in our country."_

 _Readers remember that Lady Lestrange has been a fugitive from law since escaping justice following the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom on November 1st, 1981._

 _A statement from the Longbottom family read, in part._

' _We are disgusted by the actions taken by the Bulgarian government to legitimize a terrorist like Bellatrix Lestrange.'_

 _French Minister of Magic, Francis DuPont had equally harsh words; calling the move a 'spit in the face to the memories of the victims in Cannes.' Recalling the infamous massacre led by Lady Lestrange on Gaston Alley in 1978. 'I urge Minister Dimitar to repeal her offer of sanctuary and turn the criminal over to British authorities.'_

 _Lucius Malfoy, speaking on behalf of Minister Fudge condemned the move by the Bulgarians, but said that the British government would 'respect the sovereignty of Bulgaria' being quick to add that 'every action has consequences.'_

 _Bellatrix Lestrange has long been suspected of hiding in the Eastern European nation, but last night's radical move is, to echo Minister DuPont's strong words, a 'slap in the face' to Bellatrix Lestranges numerous victims._

 _The Editorial Board at the Daily Prophet unanimously condemns the actions of the Dimitar administration and urges them to turn over Bellatrix Lestrange immediately._

Harry set the paper down in disgust. Across the hall he caught Greengrass shooting Draco Malfoy a look of pure hatred.

He glanced over to the Gryffindor table and saw the usually unassuming Neville Longbottom shaking with rage. _'The day after my family was attacked.'_ He realized.

' _Why would Bulgaria offer Lestrange exile?'_ He pondered. He understood Minister Dimitar's reasoning about a fair trial, Sirius was proof of that, but why not just turn her over to the French?

Frowning, he looked up in time to see Hedwig swoop down towards him from above, extending her talons just enough to clip Goldstein's hair as she flew by.

"Ruddy bird!" Goldstein tried to shout through a full mouth, throwing a biscuit at his owl.

From under the table Harry hit the boy with a weak stinging hex, causing him to yelp in pain, before he glanced towards Harry, sending him a glare.

Ignoring him, he offered Hedwig some sausage before grabbing his letter from Sirius.

He smiled as he took in his godfather's messy handwriting. His smile turned into excitement as he read that he would be able to spend weekends with Sirius this summer, and he even mentioned tutors and a vacation!

He had never been on vacation.

Pushing his thoughts out of his mind, he followed the rest of his classmates out of the hall - breaking away to head to third year charms, as the continued straight towards second year transfiguration.

* * *

"Harry!" Professor Flitwick greeted him as he arrived for his third-year class consultation. "Please take a seat, can I get you some tea?"

He politely declined, as the charms professor poured himself a glass of Earl Grey.

The two made pleasantries for a few minutes before the talk shifted to school.

"Your marks are quite good again this year, Harry." Flitwick said with a smile. "Even in potions and astronomy; Mr. Boot and Miss Moon's tutelage has paid off, I see."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Both want to be on the advanced syllabus next year." He stated.

"They both will be and Mr. Boot, at least, will be on the advanced syllabus in charms and transfiguration."

"And Lily?" He asked, hoping he wouldn't have to separate the two during tutoring.

"I can't speak for Professor McGonagall, but Ms. Moon will be on the advanced syllabus in charms."

He smiled. _'Well that's a relief.'_ He thought to himself.

"Sir," he started, biting his lip in hesitation, "I was hoping to be on the advanced syllabus for charms and transfiguration next year."

Flitwick frowned. "I do not think that is a good idea, Harry." The former dueling champion took a sip of his tea; "you're already a year ahead, and with the dueling team, and the addition of your supplementary courses next year, as well as the advanced syllabus in defense, I do not want to overburden you."

Harry groaned in frustration. "I can handle it! I'm already a month into fourth year in both courses."

"Still, it is for the best." Flitwick replied, a sense of finality in his voice. "Now what classes do you wish to take next year?"

Harry thought for a second, "I want to take warding after my OWL's." He began; "so I guess that means Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

The professor nodded his head in approval. "Have you began studying either subject, Harry?"

He nodded. "I found some old third year runes and arithmancy books, professor. I'm going to be a year ahead by September."

Flitwick smiled. "And your block, Harry?"

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his block of wood, still glowing a faint blue.

"When was the last time you had to cast the charm?"

"January 3rd at 15:30." He replied proudly.

"Five months!" Flitwick beamed in pride. "Almost halfway there."

He smiled at the praise.

"Sir, would you continue tutoring me this summer?" He asked, hopefully.

Flitwick offered him another smile. "Of course! If you are serious about arithmancy and warding, however, I suggest setting up a meeting with professor Vector. I know she has tutored students over the holidays in the past."

Harry beamed, making a note to see the young professor as soon as possible.

* * *

"Quit your bitching, Potter." Terry growled out, leading them down a dark, narrow passageway he'd nicked off Chang. " _You're_ the one who wanted to be more social."

The raven-haired boy scowled; "I didn't mean going to the lounge. I meant maybe a game of gobstones with Corner in the common room, or something."

"Where do you think they'll be, Harry?" Terry yelled over his shoulder, pushing the portrait out of the way and heading straight to the lounge.

The lounge was really a former teacher's lounge from a few centuries back that had been repurposed into an unofficial student lounge.

Music echoed throughout the room as they stepped through another portrait.

They had barely gotten ten steps inside when a familiar voice called out to him.

"Terry!" Ernie bellowed, Finch-Fletchley nipping at his heels.

He reached out lightly, digging into Justin Finch-Fletchley's thoughts. _'Sick sister.'_ He filed away that piece of information before taking Ernie's hand.

"Ernie! How have you been?" He replied, taking the offered butterbeer's and handing one to Harry.

"I've been well! I'm hoping to try out for the team next year." The boy said with a smile, turning to Harry for the first time.

"I hope I'll get to face you next year, Harry."

Harry smiled nervously at Ernie. _'Uncertainty, anxiety'_ he felt, withdrawing subtly.

He didn't need to probe Ernie. Ernie was confident in any situation.

"I hope so." Harry nodded his head a little too eagerly and Justin laughed a little.

Harry shot the boy a glare. _'He probably thinks he's being mocked.'_ Terry changed the subject.

"So, Justin. Are you excited for Haley to start next year?"

Justin looked at him in mock horror at the mention of his little sister. The child was a nightmare, he was certain Justin's father had stopped bringing her to social events out of courtesy.

"Not in the slightest. I just hope she's in Gryffindor." He replied with a chuckle.

The pair excused themselves a few minutes later, and Harry directed them over to a pair of comfortable looking chairs near the fire.

"So, what's everyone doing here anyways?" Harry asked as Terry noticed him taking in the groups of laughing students, playing various games and yelling over the music.

"Exams start in two weeks. The Gryffindors decided to throw a final party before everyone starts to study." Terry explained.

"I wonder if the Weasley twins had anything to do with it?"

As if on cue, the two gingers appeared behind them.

"Why Harry, we're flattered!" The first one said coming into view.

"Thanks, Fred." His friend replied.

The twins looked at each other in surprise.

"You can tell us apart?" Harry just nodded his head. "Fred has a freckle on his right eyelid."

The twins just looked at each other, before turning to Harry with a smile. "Not many people notice that." The twin - George, he supposed - replied. "Keep it quiet, will you, you two?" Fred replied with a wink.

And like that, the two were gone.

"Huh. I can't believe I was right." Harry said from next to him.

"You guessed?" Terry replied.

"Yup."

His companion went silent for a few seconds, and Terry caught him steal a glance at Daphne Greengrass.

The regal looking blonde was currently in an animated conversation with Cho Chang about something or another.

"Terry…" _'Here it comes,'_ he smiled to himself. "What do you know about Daphne Greengrass?"

"Why do you assume I'd know?" He paused, before adding; "and why do you want to know?"

Harry looked at him, avoiding his eyes. _'Did he know?'_ He thought to himself.

"I've caught her watching me a few times this year, I'm just curious. Besides, you know _everything_ about purebloods."

Terry just nodded. _'I brought it upon myself, really; giving him that book.'_ Thinking for a second, he decided to give him the basics.

"The Greengrass family is a pureblood family of diminishing importance." He began. "While they maintain their hereditary seat on the Wizengamot, and a modest manor; a series of poor business decisions have put them at the lower end of the pureblood spectrum, economically speaking."

"What about Daphne though, why would she be following me?" Harry said in exasperation.

Terry shrugged and answered honestly. "I don't know. But I doubt she's following you. It's likely that after your duels, you sparked some interest in her."

Harry seemed deep in thought.

"However!" He continued, deciding to give his friend a little more. "Daphne _adored_ her great aunt Ophelia."

Harry nodded his head; "so that's how Daphne's related to her. How can she adore someone who's dead?"

Terry shrugged. "She probably has some journals, maybe a few memories. Ophelia Greengrass was a fearsome witch."

Harry gestured for him to continue.

"She was one of Grindelwald's more competent Generals, probably the most competent that avoided Nurmengard. She was a sadistic fighter."

Harry smiled thoughtfully, causing a shiver to run down Terry's spine. "Her book on dueling is amazing."

Terry returned his smile hesitantly. "You copy her fighting style exactly, it's very distinct."

"What's your point, Terry?" Harry asked him.

His smile deepened. "Besides from yourself and Daphne, the most prominent person to mimic that style is Bellatrix Lestrange."

* * *

He opened the book to the table of contents excitedly. Powell had just finished his warding final and had lent him the sixth-year warding books for the summer.

'Pain Wards - Pg.264. 'He smiled, beginning to read.

It was a half hour, and several pages of notes later, when Harry saw it.

" ' _Gravi Capitis Dolore -' a small area protection ward; is used ideally on a door or container and causes those who encounter an active Gravi Capitis Dolore to be overcome with severe head pain for a short period of time. The moderate pain ward appears as a light-pink glow with black or violet tendrils around an object. This ward is easy to combine into a much larger ward scheme._

 _Gravi Capitis Dolore has no specific counter. To counter the ward, one must reach out with their magic, visualizing it cutting through the ward. Success will depend on the casters strength in relation to whoever originally cast the spell; a failed attempt will trigger the ward."_

He smiled. After months he had finally solved the mystery of the drawer.

Marking the book and tossing it into his bag, Harry briskly exited the library, heading towards his room.

Rounding the last corner, he broke into a light jog, foregoing his invisibility cloak; reaching the swaying snake, he loudly hissed at the portrait.

He waited impatiently for the door to appear, stepping through haphazardly he closed the door.

Not noticing that the door hadn't completely shut, or the mess of blonde hair watching him from behind a suit of armor. He made his way over to the desk in front of him.

Removing his wand, he took a few seconds to steady his breathing.

Calmly, he cast the diagnostic charm, examining the glowing desk drawer.

' _Pink glow, vicious looking black tendrils.'_ He smiled. He knew what to do.

Canceling the diagnostic charm, he steadied his breathing again. _'I have no idea how powerful Tom Riddle was.'_ He frowned.

Curiosity getting the best of the twelve-year-old, he focused on his magic - pushing it through his wand, and towards the desk drawer.

The ward responded instantly, the violent black tendrils emitting small sparks, as the ward fought against its destruction.

He his magic was losing, he realized.

Panic was starting to build in him for the first time, as he started to sweat from exertion.

He tried to calm his breathing but was losing that fight as well. Desperately he made one final push with his magic.

Instantly he was overcome with pain.

He heard himself screaming, as he felt the blood trickle down his face.

Then the pain was gone, and he vomited right on the desk.

" _Gross."_ He heard a feminine voice say with dismay from in front of him.

* * *

"Tell Malfoy I'm not interested, Nott." Daphne growled, narrowing her eyes in danger.

Swallowing deeply, and with a nervous nod, Theodore Nott ran away from her.

She smirked to herself; turning to head towards the Slytherin common room, when she was nearly run over by an erratic Harry Potter.

Curious, she turned to follow him, walking briskly for a second before ducking behind a suit of armor five-feet away from where Potter was looking at a portrait.

' _Where the hell did that portrait come from?'_ She asked herself.

In her two years walking this stretch of hallway multiple times a day, not once had she ever noticed a portrait of a snake charmer.

' _What's he doing?'_ Her thoughts were interrupted by a noise coming from the boy. _'Is he hissing?'_

She was shocked a half-second later when a door appeared.

Obviously expecting this, Potter stepped through.

She laughed silently to herself. _'Did that idiot really just leave the door open?'_

She was torn between not getting caught snooping and following Potter into the unknown room.

Daphne sighed; _'it's not worth it.'_ She thought, turning on her hell to walk away.

She got halfway down the hall when she heard him scream.

In front of her Potter was clutching his scar. _'Is that blood?'_

Luckily the screaming had stopped, and the boy was just bleeding and shaking.

She was about to leave, when the boy puked on the desk in front of him.

She scrunched her nose in disgust. "Gross," she heard herself say in disgust.

Emerald met emerald as she saw the recognition in his eyes.

"Greengrass?" He questioned. "How the hell did you get in here?"

She rolled her eyes, trying to determine what she wanted. The room wasn't anything special. But the large bookshelf behind an extremely messy desk told her that Potter found the room useful.

She stepped closer to him, staring at the desk in curiosity, casting a quick diagnostic charm.

"Pain ward?" She asked.

"Gravi Capitis Dolore." He groaned in response.

She nodded in thought, before turning to him angrily.

"You're pathetic, Potter. Stop groaning and cast a pain relief charm on yourself."

He stared at her, with bright red cheeks; "I don't know any." He admitted.

"Unbelievable." She muttered. "You obviously know what this ward is but took no effort to prepare for the possibility that you might fail." She sighed. "Some strategist you are."

"Allevo." She said in disgust, tapping him with her wand.

"That dumb bitch said you were smart."

"Who?" He responded.

' _This idiot was top of their year?'_

"Lily, obviously." She started. "And I'm here because in your rush to act like an idiot, you forgot to shut the door, I heard you scream."

"Damn." He muttered in embarrassment. "Well thank you, Daphne."

She gave him a look over. _'I'm not the only one who grew up.'_ Despite having two years of classes together, and sharing several friends, she had never been this close to the boy.

When she had first seen Potter, he looked more like a house elf than someone of any significance, she had been convinced that a strong gust of wind would blow him over. Now he stood slightly taller than her - even with her growth spurt.

Gone were the glasses, shabby robes; and pale, malnourished skin. His robes were of higher quality, and he looked as healthy as anyone else. But it was his eyes that had really changed.

His glasses had been replaced with a calm, powerful look.

She shivered involuntarily.

Such a transformation from the boy she had seen in the medical wing in first year - she shuttered at the bittersweet event.

She allowed her smirk to turn into a scowl.

"What is this place anyways, Potter?"

He scowled back at her but gave her an answer. "I found it by accident. I think it used to belong to someone named 'Tom Riddle.'"

She frowned; "I've read that name in my aunt's journals…" Her frown deepened, as she tried to remember what she had read.

His head perked up a bit.

"Are you talking about your great aunt Ophelia?" He asked.

She gave him a dangerous look, subconsciously beginning to duck into her dueling stance.

"Yes." She replied. "What about her?"

To her frustration, Potter didn't balk at her tone; narrowing his own eyes in response, she could see him fingering his wand beneath the desk.

"I'm just curious." He replied, nonchalantly. "Terry told me a little about her last year after he gave me one of her books."

' _That little shit.'_ She thought, thinking of Boot. "Which one?"

" _Fighting to Win."_ He responded. _'Well that explains where he learned that style.'_ She thought to herself, easing up a bit.

"Ophelia was my grandfather's sister. She was the best duelist of the last century." She boasted in pride.

"What happened to her?" He asked curiously.

Her eyes narrowed again. "None of your business, Potter."

' _Is that amusement? Is he amused by all of this?'_ She nearly cursed him, before smiling wickedly, deciding what she wanted.

"In exchange for my silence. You will give me unfettered access to the library." She had him.

Potter just raised an eyebrow; "and why would I do that?" He smirked.

The smile never left her face. "Because I doubt you want the whole school knowing you're a parselmouth."

He frowned but didn't budge. "Why would I care what the school thinks of me? My dormmates already hate me."

She frowned slightly but didn't relent. "Do you know the three most famous parselmouths in history?"

He frowned and shook his head.

"Herpo The Foul, Salazar Slytherin, and The Dark Lord." She counted off on her fingers, smiling evilly, adding a fourth finger. "Harry Potter."

"One book at a time, Greengrass. And your lips are sealed." She just smiled, wiping a strand of blonde hair out of her face, she noticed him staring at her for a long second and smiled, heading over to the bookshelf.

"You keep your word, and I'll keep mine, Potter."

* * *

She was wearing new robes, he noticed.

In their last duel, Daphne had been wearing standard black dueling robes; now she was wearing dark Slytherin green robes, with her house crest on her breast.

He smirked. _'I wonder if she got the idea from me.'_ He thought, sparing a glance at his own bronze and blue robes.

He _liked_ Daphne's personality, he had realized after their only real conversation last weekend.

She had been angry, done her best to intimidate him, and attempted to blackmail him; but he liked her confidence, her obvious intelligence, and how she had expected more of him.

He smiled dangerously at her, as the referee started the duel.

He fired a half-dozen arrows at Daphne to open the final duel of second year.

' _She's fast.'_ He thought.

His eyes widened in slight shock as Daphne deviated from her normal routine; replacing her bombarda and reducto's with bone-breakers and flipendo's.

He smirked; ' _she realized she has to use more powerful spells against me.'_

He dodged the bone breakers and the flipendo with ease but was hit in the thigh with a piercing curse.

He grimaced in pain. Returning fire with a whispered _"_ _Cannoventus,"_ covering the pit with a thick, dark smoke.

Using the smoke as a distraction, he fired a half-dozen bone-breakers towards his opponent.

He smiled savagely as he heard Daphne yelp in pain from behind the smoke.

The broken bone wasn't enough to keep her down, however, as she returned fire with a new round of spells.

Bleeding profusely from his left leg, and unable to move, Harry shielded the first two spells, but let out a cry of his own as he took a bone-breaker to the chest.

His breathing became labored, and his mouth began to fill with blood.

He shielded one last desperate time, before firing off a concussion hex.

With her own broken leg, Daphne was forced to shield. She smiled triumphantly at him briefly, before a large ball of fire erupted from her wand.

He used his remaining strength to dive out of the way of the fire, exiting the circle as he did so.

" _Ravenclaw is disqualified. Slytherin is the winner."_

He frowned.

Looking up from the ground, he saw Daphne grinning victoriously at him from across the platform. She caught his eye and nodded at him in respect, he returned her nod, vowing to win his year group next year.

* * *

 **A/N:** The CoS was never going to be opened in second year. It's too interesting of a plot point to waste on 12-year olds. We're starting to get into the plot, now; but be patient, fourth year is where the story really picks up.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own Nothing**

* * *

He woke up in a cold sweat. Disoriented and uncomfortable, Barty Crouch stood up from the chair he must have fallen asleep in and tried to remember what had happened.

' _I was talking with Octavius about something or another.'_ His memory started to get fuzzy as he tried to remember the rest of his afternoon. He remembered grabbing a bite to eat with Dirk Cresswell sometime later…

He was slightly nauseous and had a headache, he smiled. _'I must have gone out for drinks with Dirk!'_ Crouch told himself.

He frowned as he looked at the mess on his desk; _'where did all of that come from?'_

He took out his wand and with a flick of his wrist, the parchment and ink covering his desk disappeared.

With a smile he called out; "Winky!"

The elf appeared in front of him a second later, looking at him with some trepidation. _'That's odd.'_ He thought to himself as he stared at the normally confident elf.

"Winky could you please bring me a hangover potion?" He asked, kindly.

"Yes, master Barty, sir." The elf responded without looking at him; disappearing and reappearing a second later with a phial of dark green potion.

Downing it with a grimace, Barty allowed the smile to return to his face. It was nice of Dirk to take him out. After all, it had been a rough month, his wife had passed away a year ago and he hadn't been handling the anniversary well.

Looking at the time, he smiled again as he began to get ready for work, happy to have something to do to take his mind off her memory.

* * *

" _Flagram!"_ He shouted.

A large whip of fire appeared at the end of his holly wand.

"Great work Harry!" His opponent complimented him from 25 feet away. He smiled as he willed the flame to dispense of Tonks' small brown bear.

"Aquapilatum, pref-" Harry had to dive out of the way of a bone-breaker before he could finish his piercing curse.

"Great work with the ball of water, Harry!" Tonks encouraged from across the pit, silently sending an array of stunners at him.

Harry dodged, firing back with some stunners of his own.

"But you can't cast that first spell quick enough yet to leave yourself with enough time to keep up the pressure!"

As an example, Tonks sent several piercing curses and bone-breakers his way; emphasizing the wand movements and verbalizing the spells for his benefit.

He dodged, deftly. Returning fire with a smokescreen and several bone-breakers of his own.

"Nice try, little eagle!" His opponent taunted, dispelling the thick cloud of dark smoke. "But you're no match for me!"

An orange spell hit him then, and in an instance, he felt his arms and legs begin to shorten in length, his body soon followed.

Harry tried to gasp, but it came out as a snort. From the corner he heard his godfather laugh.

The pink-haired girl walking his way conjured a big, blue ribbon; a devious smile on her face she closed the difference between the two, before sticking it to his chest.

He heard Sirius laugh, noticing the mirth dancing in his grey eyes from beside his dueling teacher.

Sirius examined Harry carefully before turning to his cousin. "Great work on the snout, Tonks." Sirius smiled, turning to his transfigured godson.

"Best in show!" He shouted dramatically.

The pair laughed at his expense.

"You make a cute pig." The 19-year-old cooed.

Sirius laughed again, snapping a picture of the pair before Tonks undid the transfiguration.

"Dammit, Tonks!" He huffed. "Are you going to do something like that _every_ time?"

From the corner of his eye he saw his godfather holding the newly developed picture of Tonks and pig-Harry; with a flick of his wand the picture was framed and stuck to the wall next to the others.

The older girl smirked. "Yes." She replied, glancing at her uncle. "It's in my contract."

He groaned. It was the first Sunday in July, and between tutoring sessions with Filius on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday; and Septima Vector on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Harry had been busy every weekday. When he had mentioned to Sirius how much he loved his schedule, the older man had been quick to show Harry Grimmauld Place's library, offering to help him with any subject he could. Sirius had also hired his cousin Nymphadora to be his dueling instructor.

Nymphadora, he learned, was Nymphadora Tonks, former all-European school dueling champion, and current top-20 dueler on the professional circuit.

Tonks, Harry had quickly learned, was an incredible teacher.

"Harry." The aforementioned witch called out in curiosity from across from him. "Where did you learn that style?"

Harry thought about what he now knew was his pretty distinctive dueling style and answered. "My friend had given me a book by Ophelia Greengrass, I read about it there and sorta adopted it." Despite the reputation surrounding Ophelia Greengrass's legacy, he had learned to trust his godfather and Tonks.

She nodded her head thoughtfully, but it was Sirius who spoke up.

"Did you get it from your little girlfriend?"

Harry scowled. "Daphne is not my girlfriend. She's more like my… rival." He finished, attempting to quantify his relationship with the girl who was currently blackmailing him.

Sirius and Tonks shared a smirk. The pair had been giving him grief ever since Greengrass had literally ran into him last weekend in Whisper Alley.

When the pretty blonde had proceeded to blush, then scowl, then smile briefly, before scowling again and telling him to watch where he was going - Harry had been confused. The pair with him had taken that as a sign to tease him relentlessly.

"You could do worse, Harry." Sirius spoke up.

Harry flushed, but answered the original question. "Terry Boot gave me _'Fighting to Win'_ in my first year."

Tonks looked past him thoughtfully. "That's a _damn_ good book." She responded. "We'll spend the rest of the summer going over it, making sure you're able to give _Daphne_ a proper spanking next year." She ended with a wink, causing him to groan in exasperation.

"So, what are you and Professor Flitwick working on?" His godfather asked in interest as the three ate dinner.

Taking a second to swallow his roast, Harry smiled; "how runes and enchanting work together."

Tonks looked impressed. "That's fifth year charms, and fourth year runes, if I remember correctly."

Harry smiled at the older girl. "It is," he nodded, "but it's a pre-cursor to warding, and it helps with my enchanting so it's extremely useful."

He smiled to himself as he thought of his block, still glowing after seven months.

' _You can also tie curses into runes.'_ He thought to himself with a grin.

"Speaking of runes." Sirius continued. "Tonks, what do you know of this Vector lady that's tutoring my godson?"

Now in her original form, Tonks thought for a second.

"Septima was a seventh year Ravenclaw when I was a first year." She smiled at something or another, then continued. "Professor Vector took over as my runes Professor sixth year and took over as my warding teacher seventh year. She was very good. Highly intelligent and extremely confident."

Harry nodded at her assessment of the young, brunette beauty. "She seems to know _everything._ " He gushed.

His godfather nodded. "What are you working on with her?"

He felt nervous for a few seconds – taking a calming breath, and focusing on a single memory, he felt his anxiety fade. _'Wasn't I just talking about Ophelia Greengrass with them?'_

"She's helping me with the Ruiz framework." Harry said confidently.

Sirius and Tonks shared a quick look. "I see…" His godfather started.

Ricardo Ruiz was a famous 15th century arithmancer who successfully found a way to combine Nordic power runes with Incan blood runes. His research had laid the framework for the four rituals collectively known as the "Dillinger Quartet," the first of such rituals was the Ritual of Josephine, a ritual meant to balance out his magic.

"And how are you progressing?" His godfather asked in interest.

Harry tried to hide his shock at Sirius's casual response to his area of study. "Septima says that I should be ready to perform the Ritual of Josephine on the 31st… with your permission, of course." He asked.

Sirius gave him a serious look; "those rituals are painful, Harry." _'Not to mention illegal.'_ Harry added silently.

He nodded.

"If you don't do them properly, then you suffer a lot of pain for no gain."

Harry nodded again. "I know that, Sirius."

He sighed. _'Time to play my ace card.'_ He thought.

Harry chanced a quick glance at Tonks, then looked back at Sirius. " _Besides,_ " he started, "I have neither the time, nor the patience to do it the old-fashioned way."

The pair had discussed the prophecy at great length at the beginning of the summer, and Sirius had pledged to always support him; granting him full access to the Black family library.

Harry fully intended on taking advantage of that support.

Sirius offered him another smile. "As long as Septima is there to oversee the process, I have no problem with it."

* * *

At the northeastern end of Diagon Alley sat magical Britain's second largest library. The building was modeled after the Temple of Apollo Epicurus; large granite columns adorned the outside of the building; hiding a large, elegant library.

Walking past a pair of pillars and into the library, he quickly made his way past the entrance desk before hanging a left, jogging up a stairway and into a private room.

"You're late." Septima Vector said, shooting him a soft scowl.

"Sorry!" Harry replied with a slight blush. "I was meeting Terry Boot for lunch and lost track of time."

The pretty brunette offered him a warm smile. "No problem, Harry. Let's begin, we have a lot to cover."

He opened his bag, removing his carving tools, some parchment, a block of marble, and a few quills.

"Let me see your Ruiz framework." She asked him firmly, pointing at his marble block.

Harry offered his tutor a smile, and slowly began to carve the requested runes into the marble.

The professor sat down and began to observe his work.

"Hmm…" she offered an hour later as he finished. "The bottom right corner of your ' _Geirs'_ Rune needs to just touch the tip of your _'Munay'_ Rune or you'll get sub-par results."

He nodded. "Should I try and power it?" He asked, removing his wand hesitantly.

Septima seemed to think for a second, before offering him a bright smile. "If you're ready."

Harry returned her smile, before shutting his eyes and reaching out for his magic.

Powering a set of runes didn't require a spell, instead it required an intimate relationship with one's magic that allowed you to push it outwards.

He felt a warmth run through his body as he began to gently push a small stream of magic through his wand and into the set of runes.

From next to him his tutor was watching the runes glow with a degree of intensity.

A half minute later the glow faded, and his teacher turned to him with another soft smile.

"Great work Harry! Let's make some changes to the runes, then we can move on to the next step in preparation."

A half an hour later Septima was happy with his progress. "Well done, Harry!" She offered him warmly, before her expression turned grim. Reaching into her bag, she removed a dark-red quill with a sharp point.

"The reason rituals like the 'Dillinger Quartet' are looked down upon are not because of their positive results, but because of the pain inflicted upon those who attempt the process."

Harry nodded his head, he was aware that permanent rituals required a significant amount of blood to be sacrificed.

"This." She pointed at the quill in her hand. "Is a blood quill." She handed Harry the quill at this point and he began to observe it tentatively.

"Blood-quills are used in the preparation process, they prepare you for the pain that a permanent ritual requires. When writing with a blood quill, the cursed quill will use the writer's own blood as ink."

Harry gulped.

She gave him a firm look and continued. "If you don't think you can handle it, Potter, I won't judge you, many cannot."

' _Strength requires sacrifice.'_ He reminded himself. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes, Septima."

She nodded, then continued. "For the rest of the time, I want you to draw the set of runes necessary for the Ritual of Josephine."

Harry nodded, pulled out a piece of parchment, and began to write.

Pain. That's what he felt as he continued to draw slowly.

"You're almost done, Harry." Septima encouraged from the side. "Only three more runes and I can give you this pain potion." She said with a smile, pointing at the pink liquid next to her.

He grinded his teeth and got back to work.

Five minutes later his right hand was resting in a bath of murtlap; between that and the potion Septima had gave him, he was feeling pretty good.

"Not bad Harry." She said approvingly.

"But you stopped and started too much, you need to be more fluid and precise. With some practice you should be okay for this ritual, but if you ever want to move on to the 'Samsonov Groupings' than you need to improve your carving."

Harry grimaced. "What's the 'Samsonov Grouping?'"

Vector just offered him a pretty smile; "you're not there yet, Harry."

* * *

" _Harry!"_ He heard a familiar voice yell.

He barely had time to react before a mess of long, black hair was enveloping him in a tight hug.

"It's good to see you too, Lily." Harry responded with a smile, releasing her from the hug.

She blushed slightly. "Thank you so much for your help with charms and transfiguration! I've been placed on the advanced syllabus for both as well as astronomy. My parents were so pleased."

Harry smiled. It was a few days before his birthday, and the pair had agreed to spend the afternoon wandering Diagon Alley.

"How was Italy?" He questioned as he followed her lead towards the north end of the alley.

The Slytherin girl glanced up at him prettily, flashing him another smile.

"It was _great!"_ We spent a week in Florence before spending another week in Positano with Blaise and his mother."

"Does Blaise live in Italy?" He inquired.

She shook her head. "His mother is dating an Italian aristocrat, he spends his summers in Positano."

They chatted animatedly as they enjoyed the beautiful July day wandering around Diagon Alley.

"Let's grab something to eat in the park!" His friend exclaimed excitedly, grabbing his hand and pushing their way through a crowd of adults towards the large green fields of Memorial Park.

The pair continued to chat as they made their way down the cobblestone paths past various benches and tables.

Lily stopped suddenly. "You can buy me lunch from here." She said matter-of-factly stopping in front of a food cart near a field where some kids were playing a pickup game of quidditch.

"And why would I be buying you lunch?" He asked with a questioning look.

Blue eyes gave him a light glare. "Because, Potter. A gentleman always pays." She said with a smug smile, slowly removing a package from her bag. "Besides, do you want your birthday gift or not?"

Harry returned her smile and paid for a pair of Hippogriff kabobs. Gesturing towards a group of tables, he continued; "then lead the way, Ms. Moon."

Lily giggled, motioning to an unused table a few meters away.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each enjoying the spicy cubes of meat.

"So, are you going to open my gift or not?"

He raised an eyebrow before picking up the simply wrapped package in front of him, tearing it open to reveal a thick, plain looking book.

' _Healing for the Novice'_ the title read.

"Daphne said you don't know any healing spells." She gave him a strange look. "But she didn't say how she knew that…"

Harry smiled, deciding to give her a piece of the truth. "She saw a spell backfire on me when I was practicing alone one day." He grimaced slightly at the memory. "Then yelled at me and cast a pain relief spell."

Lily just pointed at the book in front of him. "This should help."

He nodded. "Thank you."

The pair finished their food quietly, before Lily broke the silence.

"Come on, I want a carriage ride."

Besides being a large, outdoor park in the middle of magical London, Memorial Park was famous for having Abraxan drawn carriages.

They hailed a coachman, and took a moment to admire the large, winged horses.

Stepping in, Harry helped Lily into the carriage before the Abraxan started slowly trotting along the cobblestone path.

Thirty seconds later and their carriage was flying 100 meters off the ground, providing them a magnificent view of the park and alley below.

"Daphne told me you ran into her a few weeks ago near Flourish and Blotts." Lily started with a grin.

Harry groaned and rolled his eyes. "Is that what she told you?"

At her affirmative nod, he continued. " _She literally_ ran into me."

Lily laughed softly. "You've caught her interest."

Harry just rolled his eyes; he knew why she was interested in him.

"She's just not used to losing." Was how he replied.

The pair spent the rest of their time wandering the park, never noticing the rat following them from the surrounding grass.

* * *

Bellatrix sipped her coffee as she took a moment to watch the sunrise over the Black Sea.

She took a deep, calming breath as she watched the waves hit the beach. In the distance she could see several birds swooping down into the sea, grabbing a fish each, before flying off.

She treasured these peaceful few moments each morning.

Bellatrix sat in silence for several more minutes before turning to the unopened post sitting in front of her.

' _Lucius can wait.'_ She thought, setting the first letter aside.

Picking up the unsigned second letter, she began to read, an amused smile on her full lips. _'So, Potter is interested in some of the more questionable areas of magic, is he?'_

Harry Potter was no real concern of hers, though she suspected the Dark Lord would want his movements monitored, and Pettigrew wasn't the most competent wizard.

Burning the first letter, she turned to Lucius's elegant cursive.

A genuine smile crossed her sharp features as she read. If Lucius's letter was to be believed, she would soon be completing her stay in Bulgaria.

Glancing around the small villa, she couldn't help but feel a sense of glee at the thought of finally returning to Britain.

' _Maybe I'll grab Rodolphus, and we can burn this village to the ground?'_ She thought in delight.

Finally, she turned to the last letter, and paused.

' _Dear Bella….'_ It read in an exceptionally neat, ostentatious, handwriting.

She would recognize that handwriting anywhere. The sadistic witch had waited years to see it again.

She finished the letter with a sigh, and a shiver of pleasure. _'Soon enough;'_ she thought to herself as she finished her coffee and headed back inside.

Still, Bellatrix smiled at the way her day had begun. She always had been a morning person.

* * *

Sweat dripped down her brow as she rolled under a dark purple curse. Coming up from her roll, Daphne unleashed a barrage of concussion hexes and bone breakers towards her opponent.

Apollo Carrow dodged easily. "Keep up the pressure!" Her instructor demanded as she pirouetted out of the way of an organ expelling curse. _'What the hell has gotten into him?'_ The blonde girl thought to herself.

Her tutor then sent a wide-area fire spell her way, forcing her to shield.

Her shield failed under the force of the spell, burning her chest. She let out a yelp and the flames stopped.

"Your shields are weak, Greengrass!" The man snapped. "If you want to force your opponents to shield, you should at least learn how to shield yourself!"

She almost let out a growl but tempered her mood.

"Yes, Master Carrow."

The black-haired man smiled. "Very good, we will continue tomorrow."

Daphne grabbed some burn salve from the kitchen, then headed back to her room, replaying the session in her mind. _'He's using a lot of wide-area spells.'_ She thought to herself.

Ever since she had disclosed that she had lost to _Potter,_ of all people, due to her inability to shield, Carrow had been pushing her to rely less on her dodging and more on her shielding.

' _Shielding is a waste of time.'_ Her thoughts echoed her great aunt's words, why shield when you can attack?

Still, she understood the reason behind having a strong repertoire of shields, even if she didn't like it. If that's the only way Potter can beat her, then she needed to take away that advantage from him.

Entering her modest room, she looked at the book sitting on her nightstand.

Picking it up she frowned, debating herself.

' _He's already beat you once, do you really want to risk it?'_ She thought to herself. _'And Lily said he's undergoing the Ritual of Josephine….'_ She thought for a second. _'It would be nice to have a worthy opponent.'_

On a whim, she grabbed the book off her nightstand, penning a quick note, she wrapped up the book and sent it, and a note, on its way.

' _Hopefully you've practiced, Potter.'_

* * *

' _Tempus.'_ He whispered.

' _July 31st, 8:23'_

He smiled. In a few hours he would be undergoing the Ritual of Josephine with Septima and Sirius.

All things considered, he was ready. While he had spent the last few weeks practicing writing the necessary rituals with a blood quill, the ritual itself would be far more taxing.

While it was simple to complete, and power; to make the ritual permanent, he needed to draw a liter of blood without resorting to blood replenishing potions. _'A proper sacrifice.'_

It would be worth it, though. He needed any advantage he could get if he was going to face Voldemort someday.

The Ritual of Josephine, and the four rituals known as the 'Dillinger Quartet,' were meant to be undertaken on a witch or wizards 13th birthday, the winter equinox after your 13th birthday, your 15th birthday, and the winter equinox after your 15th birthday.

The four rituals were designed to help a young witch or wizard grow to their full magical potential by stabilizing their magic at an earlier age. When you're young, your magic is chaotic until you gain enough experience to control it, making it difficult to perform more advanced magic.

The rituals of Josephine and Alexander would work to balance his magic, while the rituals of Gabriel and Rutledge would help his overall health.

Sitting down at his large, mahogany desk in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place; he noticed an unfamiliar, large, black owl pecking at his window.

Curious, he made his way to the window, allowing him to hop in.

Grabbing the letter, and a small package, he began to read the unfamiliar handwriting.

' _Potter -_

 _Lily tells me you're undertaking the Ritual of Josephine today. Good, I need competent competition next year._

 _Since that idiot Boot already gave you one of her books, I thought I'd send you the companion book as well._

 _Don't forget our deal,_

 _Daphne Greengrass_

' _That was unexpected.'_ He thought to himself, tearing open the small package. He smiled at the book inside.

' _Achieving Results by Ophelia Greengrass'_

Checking the time again, he sat back down at his desk and began to read.

He was nervous, Sirius Black could admit that to himself.

It was his first birthday with his godson since his incarceration, and he was spending it preparing for a somewhat dangerous ritual.

Still, he knew it had to be done. James and Lily had had a row about it shortly after Harry was born. Lily thought the ritual was unnecessary; and while James and he had both undertaken the rituals themselves, they had both hoped that Harry would be brought up in a time of peace.

The prophecy had dimmed those hopes.

Pushing aside his doubts, he smiled at the handsome young man in front of him and marveled at the changes they had both undertaken since the first time they had met.

While Harry had been several centimeters shorter, scrawny, and had worn his hair slightly longer; his godson had also been far more guarded around him.

Now, however, he wore his hair much shorter, exposing his dull scar, ever-so-much to the world - a sign of his growing confidence. His eyes shined emerald with life, and an underlying power.

Tonks had informed him that Harry had real potential. _'I'll have to test that one of these days.'_ He thought with a wicked grin.

For his part, months of therapy and nutrient potions had returned him to a passable shell of his former self; while the psychological issues would never truly go away, they had become more manageable.

' _At least I still cut a dashing figure.'_ He thought to himself.

"She should be here any second, Sirius! I think you'll really like her!"

He smiled at his godson's exuberance, deciding to tease him a bit.

"Do your girlfriends know your heart belongs to an older woman?" He smiled.

Harry blushed. "I don't have a girlfriend Sirius."

He was about to retort when the flames in his study turned green, and an athletic leg stepped out.

Another leg, and a slender torso followed. He let his eyes linger on her chest for half a second before meeting her hazel eyes.

"...and this is my godfather, Sirius Black." His godson finished.

The brunette must have seen him looking, and, with a mischievous look, gave him a deep curtsy, displaying a small amount of cleavage before extending a hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Black." She said, suggestively. _'Is she flirting with me?'_

He smiled before dipping his head, allowing his lips to briefly brush against her knuckles.

"The pleasure is mine, Master Vector." He finished, flashing her his most dashing smile.

Septima turned her attention back to Harry, offering him a bright smile.

"Happy birthday, Harry." She said, handing him a small package.

Harry turned to him, seeking approval.

He gave him a slight nod in affirmation, as Harry began to unwrap the package.

"That's a standard warding stone." Septima began, as the birthday boy gave her an awe filled smile. "They're generally used to anchor wards permanently to a specific area, but this one is enchanted specifically for practice."

His godson was inspecting every inch of the piece of granite in front of him.

"You can carve into it using your standard silver carving knives. Carve the necessary wards into the stone, and when finished power the ward. If cast properly, the ward will glow blue, if cast improperly, it will glow red. Tap the stone a second time and the stone will be wiped clean."

She then handed him a book. "I think you'll find this book interesting, as well."

Harry took it from her, flipping through the table of contents. "I'm not sure I can do these." He said, clearly disappointed.

Septima offered him a comforting smile. _'She's really good with him.'_ He thought.

"I have every confidence in you, Harry. You're the brightest wizard of your generation."

Harry blushed, and thanked her again.

Sirius turned to Septima. "Thank you for the wonderful gifts, Septima. Shall we go to the ritual room?"

The Black family ritual chamber sat adjacent to the family's dueling pit.

' _Cygnus really knew how to set the mood.'_ He thought, glancing around the circular stone chamber.

7 torches aligned the chamber, to the far left sat a collection of ritualistic knives, and other materials, while an enchanted, salt circle sat directly in the center of the room.

"Do we require anything special?" He asked, trying to keep the slight tremble out of his voice. _'I can't let Harry see me nervous.'_

Septima must have caught the anxiety in his voice, and put a soft hand on his, offering him a reassuring smile.

"Everything will be fine, Sirius. I promise."

She squeezed his arm again, before turning to Harry, turning deadly serious in a flash.

"Alright, Harry. What's the first step?"

Harry offered her a determined nod, tapping his left wrist with his wand and casting a spell to improve blood flow.

Septima nodded approvingly, before handing him a dangerous looking mithril dagger from the collection.

Harry grabbed it without hesitation and slashed his wrist. Sirius grimaced, but Harry sat in fascination as he collected his blood in a basin.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" He heard Septima say soothingly from besides him.

The basin was about half full, and Harry's voice sounded weak, but determined.

"I'm doing fine, Septima." She just nodded.

Finishing the blood collection, Harry looked pale as he began to draw the necessary runes.

Septima entwined her fingers in his, giving his hand another squeeze.

15 minutes later, his godson swayed slightly as he stood up and sealed his wound with his wand.

He watched as Harry took a deep breath, took a knee and shut his eyes, placing his wand on the activation rune.

Harry swayed from blood loss as he spent the next several minutes powering magic into the runes.

Time seemed to stand still as the runes shimmered in a bright, blood red. Sirius held his breath knowing that the ritual was almost complete.

Suddenly the room flashed red, and the room went dark. From next to him Septima re-lit one of the torches.

"Would you mind gathering him, Sirius?" She said softly.

Complying, Sirius gathered his godson and brought him to his room.

"Do you think he was successful?" He asked the brunette witch across from him.

"Ummhmm" she grunted cutely. "His runes were precise, and he was powering them for quite a while. I think Harry did a magnificent job."

He smiled at her. "Thank you so much, for all your help with Harry this summer."

She returned his smile. "He's an inspiring student." She said, gathering her things.

He walked her to the floo as they made some small talk.

' _What the hell.'_ He thought on a whim as Septima gathered a handful of floo powder.

"I'd love to thank you properly sometime, maybe buy you a drink?" _'Why the hell am I so nervous?'_ He thought. It's not as if he had never asked a witch out before.

She smiled at him prettily, allowing a blush to cross her face. "I'll see you Monday at 7 at the Wandering Goat."

He felt his nerves disappear. "It's a date."

* * *

Hedwig gave him a soft nip as he attached the letter to her leg. "Would you mind taking this to Terry, girl?"

His owl replied with a soft ' _hoot'_ and took off into the sunset surrounding Grimmauld Place.

He smiled as he thought about the progress he had made since he completed the ritual a few weeks ago.

While the ritual hadn't turned him into some sort of god, it had allowed him to see more success in his current projects.

He smiled maliciously as he thought about the flinging hex he had successfully placed upon the bludger he had found while rummaging through the attic.

Exiting the small owlery, Harry made his way down the rickety, winding steps towards the main area of the home.

" _Sirius, all I'm asking is that you allow me a look around…"_ A familiar voice echoed through the hallway.

' _What's Dumbledore doing here?'_ He thought to himself.

" _You haven't told me why, Albus."_ Was his godfathers untrusting response.

He heard his headmaster sigh. _"It has to do with Regulus.."_

' _Who the hell is Regulus?'_ Harry thought to himself.

" _What do you want with that traitor?!"_ He didn't need the echo of the walls to hear that one, as he slipped closer to the source of the voices.

Placing himself right behind an empty portrait, Harry noticed a shimmering where he knew the portraits eyes to be and placed himself there.

To his surprise, he was rewarded with a clear view of his godfather's study. He took stock of the room. Looking out across Sirius's office, he could see his godfather pacing the room as the headmaster stared at him calmly.

" _I have reason to believe that Regulus wasn't as loyal to Voldemort as we were led to believe."_

At this Sirius paused, giving the old headmaster a calculating look before letting out some harsh laughter.

" _You believe my brother, a proven Death Eater, wasn't loyal to Voldemort, yet you let me sit in Azkaban for ten years?"_ His godfather screamed.

Dumbledore looked away in shame but continued.

" _If I am right, then your brother has done more to protect Harry than any other."_

At this the black-haired man paused.

" _Explain."_ He heard Sirius say firmly.

The voices started to fade away as Dumbledore cast what he recognized as a highly advanced privacy ward.

' _What the hell was that about?'_ He wondered, making his way back towards his room.

* * *

Her mind was on Athens, as she dodged Harry's concussion hex, returning fire with a swarm of bees.

"Nice use of a fire charm, Harry!" She encouraged, as he took care of the insects with a swarm of fire.

A week from tomorrow she would be fighting in her first Battle, and instead of training, she was teaching a third year.

' _Gotta pay the bills somehow.'_ She sighed.

At that moment she was forced to shield Harry's wide-area stunner.

Her shield held up against his follow up as well.

' _He's gotten better.'_ She thought. _'He definitely couldn't have cast that stunner a month ago.'_

Returning fire with a couple moderate level jinxes, she observed Harry's familiar form.

The boy was light on his feet as he danced around the circle, mixing in shields only when necessary and returning fire relentlessly.

Ophelia Greengrass's influence was obvious.

The style was difficult to maintain; it required a certain degree of stamina, power, knowledge, and athleticism to constantly dodge and attack. The weaker ones preferred to shield and counter, trying to outlast their opponent. It made for a boring fight.

" _Cannoventus, ardere sagitto, fulminus!"_ Her opponent shouted.

She smiled. _'Harry Potter can duel with anyone in the world.'_ She thought. _'For one exchange.'_

She grinned, incinerating the incoming arrows, and dodging the purple lightning bolt. _'Still, an impressive combination.'_ She added silently.

"Try and incorporate some transfiguration!" She yelled, sending some minor jinxes his way.

Harry nodded, transfiguring some debris into a small wolf, directing it towards her.

"Good work, Harry!" She yelled, hitting the thing with a cutting curse to the neck.

They exchanged spells for a minute more before Tonks decided to have her fun.

Catching Sirius out of the corner of her eye, she smiled as an idea formed in her head.

With quick wand movements, and a silent incantation, a jet of light burst through Harry's shield, hitting him in the chest.

Sirius was laughing at her transfiguration, a large grin on his face.

Quickly, her cousin transformed into a shaggy, black dog; matching his transfigured godson perfectly.

The man-child quickly ran over to his godson who was desperately trying to avoid his godfather. Soon the pair began chasing each other around the room.

She laughed at the pair.

Grabbing the camera from the ground next to her, she transfigured a stand, and set the timer on her camera before joining the two dogs for a picture.

* * *

"Professor McGonagall." He said, trying to keep the shock out of his voice.

Filius chose that moment to appear from around the corner.

"Harry! You're here! I have a surprise for you!"

He just raised an eyebrow and gestured at his transfiguration professor; "I think I figured it out, professor."

The older man just smiled. "Don't be silly, Harry! Minerva is only part of the surprise." The small man was shaking in excitement.

"After our work this summer, Harry. I have decided it would be a waste of time to send you to fourth year charms."

Harry stared at him in shock. "What happened to not wanting to overwhelm me, professor?" He asked, curiously.

Filius waved him off. "After talking with Septima, I don't think you will have an issue keeping up." He said. "Minerva is here to test you on the fourth-year curriculum for her subject, as well."

It was Harry's turn to smile. "That would be great, professor."

Professor McGonagall offered him a small smile. "Let's begin, shall we, Mr. Potter?"

* * *

"Come on Harry! I don't want to be late!" Sirius proclaimed excitedly as they walked the sun kissed streets of Athens.

"We have plenty of time, Sirius." He responded.

The last week had been the best of Harry's life. He and Sirius had spent an entire week doing nothing but lounging in the sun, laughing.

His godfather grumbled but didn't slow down.

They were heading towards Tonks first Battle on the professional circuit.

"What are the rules of this battle, Sirius?"

The animagus smiled. "It's a winner-take-all, king-of-the-hill style battle. Four quadrants, four duelers per quadrant. Last person standing in each quadrant faces off against the other winner's, the winner takes the pot."

Harry nodded. He was excited to see a battle; unlike traditional duels, they involved multiple opponents and no circle to stand in, making them far less restrictive than a traditional duel.

Handing the usher their tickets, the pair walked into a large hall where viewing monitors were surrounded by seating.

Hundreds of witch's and wizards murmured in excitement as they made their way to their seats.

"Sirius!" A striking, middle-aged woman with long, black hair called out, offering his godfather a warm smile.

' _Must be Andromeda.'_ He thought to himself.

"Andromeda! Ted!" His godfather yelled back in excitement, enveloping both in a brief hug. "This is my godson Harry."

Ted offered him his hand. "Ted Tonks, it's a pleasure to meet you, Harry."

He took the proffered hand; "Likewise, sir."

Sirius smiled at him in pride at his manners. His godfather and Tonks had spent the last month and a half teaching him basic etiquette.

"You look just like your father!" The middle-aged witch proclaimed with a warm smile, enveloping him in a brief hug. "I'm Andromeda Tonks. Nymphadora has told me so much about you!"

Harry blushed slightly. "Thank you, ma'am."

They turned to the duels beginning in front of them, he enjoyed watching the individual duels for a few minutes before deciding to break the silence.

"Thank you, Andromeda." He said with more confidence then he felt.

At her questioning look he elaborated; "for representing Sirius."

She smiled. "Family looks out for each other, Harry."

' _That's not exactly true though, is it?'_ He thought, remembering how she hadn't even investigated his godfathers case until after Sirius had reached out to her.

"Of course, they do." He offered her a fake smile, hiding his dismay.

If she caught his insincerity, she didn't let it show.

"My daughter tells me you have a knack for enchantments." Andromeda asked, conversationally.

"I haven't technically cast an enchantment, yet." That took a level of permanence, most considered an enchantment to be properly cast after a year or more. "But by the end of the year, it should be official."

Ted broke into the conversation at that point. "What enchantments are you working on?"

"Filius had me enchant a wooden block to glow. I've also dabbled with enchanting a knife to remain sharp, and a spoon to resist water." _'And cursed a bludger to follow a particular player, and a quill to cause anyone to touch it a mild amount of pain.'_

"I'm hoping to start on rune-based enchantments when school starts." Harry finished.

Ted looked impressed. "That's OWL level work, I believe."

Sirius beamed in pride. "It is."

Harry watched as the battle prepared to start.

Tonks was fighting in quadrant two; along with another witch and two wizards.

"Do we know anything about the competition?" Sirius asked.

"Nymphadora is seeded number two in her quadrant." Andromeda said, then pointed to a dark-haired man. "Luca Benitez is the quadrants top seed."

The battle started in gusto a moment later. Tonks started by using the stone embankments to her advantage; blasting them apart and banishing a large amount of stone towards the man in front of her.

The red-haired man shielded, before dodging to the left of Tonks next wave of spells.

To the left of Tonks, Benitez had quickly dispatched of his opponent, and had turned his attention towards Tonks, hitting her in the side with a bone-breaker.

Tonks appeared to yell as her hair shifted from blue to a dark red.

His instructor cast a quick disillusionment charm on herself, disappearing from view.

From under her disillusionment charm, Tonks cursed herself. _'You've gotta show better awareness, Nymphadora!'_ She chastised herself.

' _What to do, what to do.'_ She smiled as she noticed Smith and Benitez dodging. _'Idiot must have given Smith time to start casting.'_ She thought to herself.

Casting a silencing charm in herself, she ignored the roar of the crowd as she made her way towards Benitez.

As she made her approach, Tonks was forced to dodge a stray spell, dispelling her disillusionment charm as she did so.

Benitez's eyes widened in shock as she started firing relentlessly at the older man, forcing him to defend on two fronts.

One of her cutters broke through the Italians shield, slashing him in the leg.

Dark-red blood oozed out of the wound as he yelled out in pain.

' _Glacius Duo'_ Tonks cast silently.

The blue and white spell jumped out of her wand, enveloping her opponent in a block of ice.

Turning her attention to Smith, she smiled. _'He's tired.'_

Tonks launched into her most violent spell combinations, hoping to end this quickly.

Bone-breakers, blood-boilers, and violent, black fireballs all made their way towards Smith.

He dodged the first two with ease but was hit when the cursed fire shattered his shield.

Smith let out a horrendous cry as he went up in flames, and the crowd gasped in horror. She quickly ended the spell as healers rushed into her quadrant to tend to her opponent.

Tonks stopped herself from going over to make sure the man was okay.

' _This is a duel. Nymphadora. Shit happens.'_

Curbing her emotions, she prepared for the next round.

"Damn!" He said excitedly, turning to his godson. "Did you see that, Harry!"

"Yes, Sirius." His godson said, rolling his eyes.

"Be quiet, Sirius! They're about to start!" Andi admonished. He cowered slightly; his cousin had always been a kind, but vicious woman. _'Not unlike her older sister.'_ He frowned.

"Yes, Andi."

He replied quickly.

The duel was underway quickly, as Tonks was taking on a dark-skinned witch who was impressively battling with only elemental spells.

His cousin, for her part, was dodging impressively, slowly advancing on her opponent while trying to avoid the spells erupting around her.

Tonks danced out of the way of several bolts of lightning, taking the time to conjure a flock of birds, directing them at her opponent. With the other witch distracted, Tonks caught her with a stunner.

He watched intently for a moment longer, when a woman from near the exit caught his attention. While she didn't stand out, he would recognize those cheekbones and that black hair paired with cruel violet eyes anywhere.

' _Bellatrix.'_ He thought, alarm bells going off in his head. _'What do I do?'_ He thought to himself, trying to keep the panic from his face.

Deciding on a course of action, he snuck away from the group, intent on verifying that he had indeed seen his sadistic older cousin, hoping that instead his eyes were playing tricks on him.

He watched as a black ponytail bounced out of the main arena and into a hallway off to the side.

He heard a pair of familiar voices as he approached. _'How careless. Talking openly in a public place.'_ Albus had said that the Bellatrix had been getting reckless since she was granted asylum, and he would have to agree _,_ he thought as he recognized his cousin's voice immediately. The other voice was also familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"Bella!" the somewhat familiar voice said, confirming his fears. _'Why the hell are you here, Bellatrix?'_

Risking a chance, he peeked his head around the corner.

His eyes widened in shock as he recognized the second face immediately.

' _It couldn't be.'_

He was so shocked, he hadn't noticed the _"obliviate"_ headed his way.

* * *

"That just sounds wildly irresponsible, Sirius." He said with a smile on his face.

Honestly learning how to apparate sounded like a great idea.

"So, is that a no?" His godfather seemed genuinely perplexed.

"I didn't say that." Harry responded quickly.

"Then why did you make that comment?" Sirius responded through a mouthful of eggs.

' _He's teaching me manners?'_

Harry shrugged. "It seems someone here had to be the adult."

Sirius ignored the jibe. "You're good enough at occlumency now, you will be able to visualize where you want to go, the rest is just effort."

"Alright boy wonder, let's call it a day."

The two of them had spent the entire day working on his apparition. Once it had become apparent to the animagus that he had a knack for the subject, Sirius had designed an obstacle course throughout Grimmauld Place. Sirius had even spent some time throwing spells at him while he tried to apparate out of the way.

"Come with me to the study, Harry."

He frowned. _'I wonder what this is about?'_ Thinking about several cursed items currently sitting in his desk drawer. _'That would be difficult to explain.'_

Seeing the look on his face, Sirius quickly continued. "I just want to talk with you in the study for a bit. My family may not have got much right in raising me, but my parents always took school seriously, and I agree."

He relaxed.

Taking a butterbeer from Kreacher, they sat down next to the roaring fire. He took a moment to admire the various portraits, and hunting trophies, paying attention to the Griffins head hanging above the fireplace.

Settling in, he waited for Sirius to start.

"What are your classes, this year, Harry?"

He kept his face passive, fighting the urge to let his amusement show at the sudden display of maturity from his godfather.

"Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, Advanced Syllabus Defense Against the Dark Arts, Fifth Year Charms, and Fifth Year Transfiguration. I am also on the dueling team, sir."

' _He already knows all of this.'_

Sirius smiled. "Impressive, Harry. What do you expect your marks to be?"

"All 'Outstanding,' sir. As they always are. I also expect to get 'Outstanding's' on my OWL's in Charms and Transfiguration as well."

His godfather beamed at him with pride.

"What about personal goals?"

Harry thought for a few seconds, he honestly hadn't given it a thought.

"Well I'd like to win my grouping in dueling this year, a third year has never won the third through fifth year grouping." He thought for a few more seconds. "I'd like to get far enough ahead so that Septima will put me in fifth year runes next year, as well."

He saw a silly smile start to form on his godfather's face and he smirked. "I'd also like you to sign my Hogsmeade slip so that I won't have to find a way to sneak out of the castle."

Sirius just rolled his eyes; "I can tell you a dozen different passages out of that place. But I'll sign your permission slip."

Harry's eyes widened; "tell me!" He practically begged.

Sirius gave him a patronizing look; "no."

"Braggart." He mumbled under his breath.

Catching him off-guard, Sirius abruptly changed topics; "tell me about Hermione."

' _What the hell?'_ He thought, unable to keep the shock from his face.

With a tremble in his voice, he responded. "Why do you want to know about her?"

"Because she was your first friend, Harry. And I had to find out everything I know about the girl from Albus. I'm worried you haven't been handling things properly."

Harry looked at him in anger. "The Headmaster made me see a mind-healer for the rest of first year." He snapped. "I saw one for as long as you have, and you're taking your seat on the damn Wizengamot next week."

"Dammit, Harry. This isn't about me." Sirius replied in exasperation. "I just want to know more about your first friend. You never talk about her!"

Hot tears started to roll down his cheeks. He didn't mention Hermione on purpose, he still felt guilty for his role in her death.

"Hermione was the first person I ever met who understood me. We were both outcasts."

His response was monotone, as if he were recalling one of the worst memories of his life.

"She was smart, and funny, and she pushed me to be my best. We were going to be on the advanced syllabus in charms and transfiguration together." He laughed humorlessly. She would be so jealous if she saw his progress.

"Do you still blame yourself?" His godfather asked gently.

They sat in silence by the fire as he thought.

"For a long time, I did, and a part of me still wants to." He trailed off for a second, but Sirius stayed silent. "I feel guilty because I know there was nothing I could do, at the time, if that makes sense."

Sirius nodded. "It does. I feel the same way about your parents."

He hadn't thought of that, and he smiled softly; just another thing the two of them had in common.

"All I can do is be the best, so that if it ever happens again, I'm ready."

Sirius stood up and gave him a hug.

"Good answer, kid." Then his godfather smiled. "I think it's time we duel."

* * *

He watched intently as Padma defeated Goldstein after a closely fought duel.

The dark-haired boy looked angry as he briefly shook the Indian girls hand before beginning to stomp off.

"Good work you two!" Jerome Powell yelled. Motioning for the two third years to approach him, he continued. "We'll post the results in the common room in a few hours."

Harry let his attention wander as the rest of the tryouts began to wrap up. He was conflicted as to whether or not he really felt Goldstein deserved the final third year spot on the Ravenclaw dueling team.

Since term had begun last week, the boy had been oddly quiet, choosing to shoot him glares across the common room rather than directly antagonize him.

"Let's start with the third years." Powell started, calling the rest of the team's attention to himself.

"Obviously Harry and Padma are on the team." The team nodded in agreement at that. "But what do we think of Anthony Goldstein?"

"I think he would be an asset to our team." Edgecombe started predictably. _'Here we go.'_ He thought to himself.

Marietta Edgecombe had become closer to his dorm mate over the last year, he was hardly surprised at her support.

From next to him Tyson Sommers, a fifth year, frowned. "Why should he be on the team? Do we really need his attitude?"

"What you call attitude I call passion!" Edgecombe replied, the slightest bit of venom in her voice.

"What do you think, Harry?" Powell asked as the team's attention shifted to him.

He thought of his reply for a second. "Goldstein has an adequate knowledge of spells and has shown the ability to shield properly." He began. "But in my two years sharing a dorm with him, he has never shown the work ethic necessary to be an asset to this team. He's out of shape, and arrogant. He will be hard to coach."

Harry thought he had given a fair assessment of his year mate, but apparently Edgecombe disagreed.

"You just don't like him for personal reasons, Potter." She spat, a tinge of hatred creeping into her voice.

Before he could respond she continued her defense.

"Anthony may not be perfect, but he's a _third year._ Being on the team will provide him with motivation and give him a real opportunity to improve."

The team discussed the issue for a little while longer before Powell called the issue for a vote.

"Alright, all in favor of Anthony Goldstein joining the team?"

Harry looked around the room, counting the raised hands. He sighed in defeat. Anthony Goldstein was now his teammate.

* * *

Harry took his seat quietly, flashing a quick smile to Septima as he settled in for third year Ancient Runes.

"Welcome, class." The melodic voice of Septima Vector said.

"As we discussed last week, today we will be discussing your year-long project. As a reminder, this project is in addition to your coursework."

While most of the class groaned, Harry just smiled - a year-long project sounded fun.

"The goal of the third-year class is to introduce the key concepts behind runes and explore how they are used in magic."

Despite the earlier grumbling from the class, professor Vector had a way of keeping everyone's attention.

"Runes are used in the creation of spells, to tie wards or enchantments to a specific area and are a prominent ingredient in any ritual; among other uses."

Harry could have sworn the young professor's hazel eyes glanced his way briefly at the mention of rituals.

"I have taken the liberty of pairing each of you with another classmate." She began.

Harry did groan at this point. _'A partner will just slow me down.'_ He thought to himself.

"As a team, you will pick a topic related to the usage of runes and hypothesize, keep a detailed record of, and demonstrate the usage of runes on a larger scale."

He grinned. _'This will be fun.'_ He thought, a million possibilities floating around in his head.

"If you need help finding a topic, I am more than happy to help." Vector finished with a soft smile.

"As for pairings; Draco Malfoy will be paired with Ernie Macmillan…"

Harry tuned her out till he heard his own name.

"Harry Potter will be paired with Daphne Greengrass."

He let out a sigh of relief at his good fortune. _'Being paired with Daphne was the best possible outcome.'_

He briefly wondered if Sirius had mentioned his peculiar relationship with the blonde-haired girl to Septima.

Either way, it appeared things would work out for the best.

He was interrupted from his musings be a warm heat emitting from his pocket.

Dipping his right hand into his pocket, he felt an unfamiliar piece of parchment. _'A switching spell?'_ He thought to himself.

He marveled briefly at the simple ingenuity at the use of the spell and grabbed the note. Glancing at it, he noticed familiar, elegant handwriting; " _Meet me at your room after dinner."_

The letter was unsigned, but he knew who it was from.

Catching her eyes for a split second, her regal features gave him a slight nod.

* * *

Harry surveyed the area from beneath his invisibility cloak for any sign of Daphne.

The intimidating Slytherin had a knack for appearing out of nowhere, and by now he had started to get used to the girl just appearing.

' _I really need to learn the disillusionment charm.'_ He thought to himself, adding it to his ever-growing list of things he needed to do.

He caught a shimmer a few meters from him and smiled, hissing at the portrait and opening the door.

A second later the door was shut, and a pretty blonde was pushing a loose strand of long hair from her forehead, to behind her ear.

"About time, Potter. I'd been standing there for five minutes."

Harry just smiled. "It's good to see you, Daphne, how was your dinner?" He said, ignoring her outburst.

She glared at him.

' _She looks pretty when she glares.'_ A look of shock nearly crossed his face. _'Merlin. Are Terry and Sirius, right? Do I have a crush on Daphne?'_

He pushed the thought out of his mind.

"So, Greengrass. What are your thoughts on this project?"

She seemed to relax. "We should create a spell. It's the most difficult application of runes, and successfully creating a spell will be sure to earn us full-marks."

He thought for a second, her idea had merit, but he wasn't sold. "Creating a spell would be fun," he started, "but I want to do something useful. Spells are time consuming for adults with years of experience. If we were to create a spell I would want to create something useful, and I'm not sure we can do that in a few months."

She frowned. But he didn't let her respond. "How about creating a ward scheme?" He said, his thoughts on the drawer to his left. "They're useful, challenging, and I have a practice ward stone we could work on."

She looked unconvinced. "Wards are fun, but they don't really hold my interest." Daphne answered honestly. "Just like you aren't going to be motivated by spell creation, I'm not going to be motivated by a ward scheme."

They sat in silence for a few moments, before Daphne spoke up again.

"How are your enchantments coming?" She asked, a touch of curiosity in her voice.

' _How the hell did she know I was working on enchantments?'_ He asked himself with a brief sense of confusion. _'She's friends with Blaise and Lily, Potter; you know that.'_ He reminded himself, pushing the thought from his mind.

"Good." He said, pointing to a glowing block on a shelf. "That one will be official at Christmas. The rest have longer to go."

The athletically built girl walked over to his shelf and began to examine various objects. Without turning to him, she asked; "have you worked on curses, yet?"

Her tone was more question than accusation, and he relaxed slightly; "why?"

She turned to look at him; "It's a natural next step." She replied with a shrug. "I'm not judging."

"I've made a few attempts." He answered, hoping he sounded at least a little mysterious.

She offered him a genuine, bright smile. _'I've never seen that smile on her before.'_ He thought, before returning hers with his own. _'It looks good on her.'_

"How about we try some large area enchantments using runes, then?" Greengrass suggested.

He thought for a second. "We could expand this room, maybe make room for spell practice…" He trailed off.

She frowned. "No, not here. It has to be somewhere I can access as well."

His smile turned to a brief frown before an idea dawned on him. "I know just the place. I can show you this weekend, if you'd like?"

She just nodded her head. Turning her attention to his messy desk.

Daphne quietly examined a familiar book on his desk, before raising a manicured eyebrow.

"Boot teaching you occlumency, Harry?"

A look of bewilderment crossed his face; "what are you talking about?"

She seemed to think for a split-second, then responded; "I just assumed you would be working on it together, occlumency is learned best in conjunction with legilimency."

She turned back to his desk again, examining a few other things for a few seconds before her head snapped his way, a malicious grin on her face. "1001 Curses, Harry?" She smiled viciously. "I didn't know you were so interested in the Dark Arts?"

He felt a bead of sweat drip down his forehead, unsure how to answer.

Luckily, Daphne caught his indecision and smiled. "Personally, I've been fascinated more by poisons, lately."

He let out a sigh of relief and decided to change the subject before she learned more of his secrets.

"Would you mind teaching me the switching spell?"

She gave him the oddest look, and he continued.

"I never thought to learn it."

Daphne gave him a slightly amused smirk, before beginning her lecture.

* * *

"I wonder how they get the carriages to work without horses?"

He said to Lily as the horseless carriage made its way towards Hogsmeade.

The black-haired witch gave him a dumbfounded look. "Honestly, Harry. For how brilliant you are in some areas, you're completely clueless in others." She finished with in an exasperated tone.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He responded.

She just rolled her eyes; "Thestrals guide the Hogwarts carriages, and they're hardly invisible."

Seeing him about to start, she cut him off. "They're only visible to those who have seen death." She finished.

Harry contemplated her for a second. "Can you see the thestrals."

The Slytherin witch shook her head. "No, but I do read about creatures. They're useful for potions."

He just nodded in agreement, adding 'creatures' to his list of topics to research. _'Maybe I should add 'Hogwarts' to that list as well?'_

They continued in silence for a few minutes longer as the tiny village began to come into vision.

"Where's Terry?" Lily asked. "I assumed he would be with you?"

"He's working on a potion, he said he may come later, but he wasn't sure. Where's Daphne?"

Lily smiled at his casual question. "She's spending the day with Astoria."

Harry nodded his head, thinking briefly of the frail looking first year.

Stepping out of the carriage and into the cold, late October air, her caught his friend shiver slightly at the cold, and cast a warming charm on Lily.

She offered him a grateful smile, and he continued. "So, she's not working on some new poison?"

Lily laughed. "Not today."

Rounding the corner and stepping into 'Honeydukes' the pair browsed the selection of sweets, grabbing a few here and there.

"Can she actually brew a poison?" He asked several minutes later.

Picking up a pack of Sugar Quills, she responded without turning to him. "Daphne can do anything she puts her mind to."

The pair paid for their purchases and continued their shopping for a few more hours before it was time to meet Blaise for lunch at the Three Broomsticks.

He was starting to warm-up to the dark-skinned boy; Blaise was smart, logical, and had a decent sense of humor, once the boy was comfortable enough in your presence.

"Harry! Lily!" Zabini greeted from a table near the back, waving them over.

Sitting down, the Slytherin boy offered them both a butterbeer.

"Tough break, in herbology, Harry." He said sympathetically.

Ever since Hannah Abbott had been moved to fourth year herbology at the beginning of the year, he had been forced to pair with Oliver Rivers, who's partner Neville Longbottom, had also skipped third year.

Between the two of them, they might just make the worst herbology pairing in the year.

He smiled. "I'll get my grade up." He replied with more confidence than he felt.

The conversation quickly shifted to quidditch, as Lily and Blaise began ferociously debating the upcoming match between the Holyhead Harpies and the Falmouth Falcons.

"Valmai Morgan has talent, but she's too young! She hasn't had time to mesh with Matilda or Gooserag yet. I don't see them as being a threat to my Falcons." Blaise argued.

While Harry wasn't much of a quidditch player, he admired the coordination, teamwork, and athleticism the sport took; and after nearly two and a half years in the wizarding world, he had become a fan of the sport.

"Booth and Miller are absolute shit beaters, and while Evans _was_ a great keeper, his fitness this year has slowed him down. That more than makes up for Morgan's inexperience." Lily countered.

The pair looked at him to break the stalemate.

He scratched his chin in thought, eyeing the Weasley twins as they flirted with Madam Rosmerta at the bar.

"Gwenog Jones is the best beater in England, she is more than capable of disrupting the Falcons chasers."

Lily smiled at Blaise triumphantly, but Harry gave Blaise a smirk and continued. "With that being said; Carrie Johnson is a liability at seeker. She hasn't been the same since she crashed last month against the Tornadoes."

It was Blaise's turn to smirk as Lily began to scowl. "I think that gives the advantage to Stone and the Falcons."

Blaise's smirk turned into a grin. "I knew you were smart, Potter!" He yelled.

The table laughed and changed the topic to something less divisive, enjoying the rest of their lunch.

After lunch, Blaise excused himself and made his way towards Susan Bones and her group of friends. As Lily and Harry made their way back into the frigid late October air.

Seeing his friend shivering again, he reapplied their warming charms, earning him a grateful look.

"You'll have to teach me that one, Harry."

He caught her blue eyes and smiled. "Of course." Taking a moment to look around, he noticed a pair of redheads heading into a shop. "Should we check out Zonkos?"

"Sure." She agreed, casually.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Malfoy and Nott taking an unusual path back towards the castle. _'I wonder what that's about?'_ He thought to himself.

Zonkos was a kaleidoscope of color. He thought, as he entered the busy shop.

Bright pink and lime green walls were lined with shelves of various products, groups of students surrounding them, trying to find uses for the various things surrounding them.

"Harry!" He heard from behind him.

The pair turned around. "Fred, George." He nodded to each of them in kind, before turning to introduce Lily. "This is Lily Moon."

The girl eyed the pair in suspicion; "it's a pleasure to meet you both." His friend responded in an unconvincing manner.

The twins eyed each other briefly, before George spoke up. "You don't have to worry about us, little snake." The older boy replied mischievously. "We don't want to upset the mighty Harry Potter!"

Lily tried to stifle her laugh as they made small-talk for the next few minutes before the boys excused themselves, heading towards Lee Jordan.

Paying for their items, the two exited the shop and hung a left towards 'Gladrags.'

"How did you meet those two?" She asked in curiosity.

He was about to respond when his warming charm failed, and he started to shiver. From next to him he noticed Lily shivering as well. He was about to start reapplying the warming charms when a look of terror crossed his friends face.

' _What is going on with her?'_ He thought.

It was a second later when he felt it. A sense of terror coursed through his body.

He heard a woman scream.

Glancing around he noticed that the wind had picked up, and frost had begun to form on the grass.

Next to him, Lily had begun to tremble uncontrollably.

' _Not Harry! Please not Harry!'_

He began to tremble in fear as he heard the vaguely familiar voice shout out in fear.

Desperately he began trying to clear his mind as a group of hooded figures began making their way down the streets of Hogsmeade.

All his focus was on clearing his mind as one of the figures approached a now unconscious Lily Moon.

Fear ran through his body as the figure lowered its hood, revealing a dark gray, nose less face, with empty eye sockets and a wide mouth.

Harry tried to fire a spell at the creature, but nothing came out.

The creature lowered itself, inches away from Lily's face.

Harry was desperate now, but his occlumency was failing, and the voices returned.

' _Avada Kedavra!'_ Was the last thing he heard before Harry Potter lost consciousness.

* * *

 **A/N:** The story really starts to pick up steam in this chapter. One more chapter left in Y3.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

 **A/N: Lots of Daphne in this chapter.**

* * *

He awoke groggily in confusion. _'Where the hell am I?'_ He thought, rubbing his eyes.

"Finally awake, Potter?" A familiar, somewhat stern voice called out from somewhere to his left.

Harry turned towards the noise and opened his eyes; "Daphne? Where am I?" The blonde girl rolled her eyes, you're in the infirmary, Potter. You've been here for a few hours.

Hazy memories, and a woman's voice flooded his mind. _'What the hell happened?'_

"And you came to see me?" He said with some hesitance.

The Slytherin rolled her green eyes. "Of course not, Potter." She said, motioning to a curtain drawn around another bed. "I'm here to see Lily."

Harry shot up in his bed, the memory of what had happened that afternoon suddenly fresh in his mind. "Is she okay?" He asked in a panic.

A tear fell down her cheek, and for the first time he noticed that Daphne had been crying.

"She will be." She said with a relieved smile. "She wasn't kissed, but the healers still want to keep her for observation."

"Daphne." She turned to look at him, he idly noticed how she forgot to frown at his use of her name. "What were those things?"

She let out a soft sigh. "You are the dumbest genius I've ever met, Potter."

He offered her a perplexed look.

"Dementors. They make you relive your worst memories. They're the guards of Azkaban."

Harry shivered involuntarily. _'Sirius was subjected to them for ten years?'_

They sat in silence for a moment.

"What did you hear?" He turned to face the girl, taking a moment to stare at her high-arching cheekbones and sharp chin. Daphne Greengrass had a beautiful face, he admitted to himself.

She must've noticed him staring, and she offered him a nearly imperceptible, brief smile.

He thought back to her question, and in a second his demeanor changed.

"I…I'm not sure, I heard screaming, and a lady talking." She didn't need to know that he thought he heard his mother pleading with Voldemort.

Daphne nodded. "What happened?"

He thought back. "Blaise had gone off to find Susan Bones, so Lily and I went to Zonkos."

"Then what?" Greengrass said, urging him to continue.

"Then we left the store, we were heading back towards the 'Three Broomsticks' when our warming charms failed, and Lily passed out."

Daphne looked at him, biting her lower lip as though she had a question to ask, but didn't know if she should.

"Don't get shy now, Greengrass. Spit it out."

The girl offered him a slight glare. "I heard Healer Adams telling Madam Pomfrey she was nearly kissed. Did you see the dementor lower its hood?"

He frowned. "What do you mean by kissed?"

She offered him an impatient huff. "A dementor's kiss steals your soul." She said, as though admonishing a child.

Deciding to circle back to that point later, he thought back on his afternoon.

"Yes. It had its hood lowered and a silver...thing chased it off."

Daphne looked interested. "What did the thing look like?"

He shivered again. "Empty eye sockets, charcoal gray face, lip-less, toothless smile."

She nodded again in thought. "Did you notice anything when Lily was about to get kissed?"

He thought back to that moment; "yeah." Harry stopped to collect his thoughts. "It looked like a black mist was rising out of Lily."

Daphne had both a horrified and curious look on her face.

They sat in silence for a few minutes longer.

"What do you think of my friend, Harry?" She asked softly.

Not letting the shock appear on his face at her use of his first name; he thought for a second.

"Lily, and Terry, are my best friends." He replied, honestly. "They're the only two who have always stood by me."

She nodded in understanding before responding. "Growing up she was the only friend I had."

Harry frowned, but she answered his unasked question.

"I didn't like many of the kids in my family's social circle, most of them used to call me names and make fun of me;" Daphne looked at him briefly seeing his confusion, she pointed at herself for a second. "Before I grew I used to be bigger."

Daphne was staring intently at Lily's bed now, and he thought he saw another tear run down her face.

"Who used to make fun of you?" He blurted out without thinking.

She glared at him, red in the face. "None of your business, Potter!"

He withdrew for a second before pressing forward.

"I'm not judging." He said, nervously. "I wasn't exactly popular growing up, the muggles hated me. My cousin and his friends used to bully me, my Aunt and Uncle used to let it happen, they were terrible."

Anger seemed to flash through her eyes, and Daphne gave him a long look, he felt as though she was judging him.

"Do you hate them?" She asked.

He thought about it for a second. "Yes. Yes, I hate them."

Daphne thought for a second. "What are you going to do about it?"

He honestly hadn't given the idea much thought. _'What am I going to do about the Dursleys?'_

They had neglected him, and only provided enough care to keep him alive. But he was alive.

' _Revenge. They should pay.'_ That was his immediate thought, but he let it go; there was just too much he had to do, the Dursleys weren't worth the effort.

"Probably nothing." He replied. "They're not worth it."

After a second, she sighed. "Malfoy, Nott, Parkinson, Macmillan, Jones, Corner. That's who used to make fun of me. They're all scum."

They went silent for another moment.

"Is that why you are the way you are?" She asked, turning the discussion back towards him.

Harry gave her question a quick thought; "partially." He answered honestly, turning towards Daphne, he asked her the same question.

"Is that why you are the way you are?"

She smiled at him for a second; "partially." She said, grabbing her bag and turning towards the door.

She turned towards him before leaving the room. "Goodnight, Potter."

A second later he heard the door shut.

"Goodnight, Daphne." He replied, losing himself in thought a moment later.

* * *

Sirius pulled on the uncomfortable black robes with a touch of apprehension - it wasn't often that the full Wizengamot was called into session on a Saturday evening.

Rarer still was being called into a session without having the slightest inkling of what the meeting may be about.

The whole situation had him nervous.

Exiting his personal chamber at the Ministry, he frowned. He did not like having to spend time associating with a ministry that threw him in prison and forgot about him.

Still, it was his duty, and he would see to it regardless of whether he wanted to or not.

Walking into the circular chamber he thought for a long second; where you chose to sit in the ancient chamber often gave your peers a hint as to your political leanings.

To the far right sat the Flint, Macnair, Malfoy, and Nott families. Closer towards the center-right he saw Edmund Boot conversing lightly with Jacob Abbott, who had traveled to Boot from his seat closer towards the center-left.

Finally, on the far-left sat Albus Dumbledore, Elphias Doge, and Augusta Longbottom.

Taking a seat in the dead-center, Sirius barely had time to greet Elizabeth Fawley before attention was called to the front of the room, where Albus Dumbledore had made his was from the far-left side of the spectrum.

Sirius noticed the old man's eyes lacked their usual sense of wonder.

A familiar sense of apprehension returned as his mind immediately thought the worst.

"Good evening, everybody." The Chief Warlock said to a now quiet chamber.

"I wish we were brought together under better circumstances, but tonight, tragedy has struck Hogsmeade."

His face went white. _'Harry.'_

It took an agonizing moment for Dumbledore to regain control of the room. "This evening, as students attended Hogsmeade, the village came under attack by a half-dozen dementors."

"Were any children kissed?" Someone asked from the left of the balcony.

Dumbledore's face sunk. "Megan Jones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Fay Dunbar all lost their souls."

Fury came across his features, and around the room he could tell he wasn't the only one, nearly the entire body was yelling angrily at the Headmaster.

Sirius took a glance towards Minister Fudge, who was talking to an ugly, toad-like woman quietly.

' _How the hell did dementors find Hogsmeade?"_ He thought to himself.

But before he could verbalize his outrage, Amos Diggory had asked exactly that.

Echoes of agreement from both sides of the aisle reverberated outwards before quieting a second later, waiting to hear a satisfactory answer from the Headmaster, and the Ministry of Magic.

Dumbledore was the first to answer. "It is an issue we are looking into right now, Amos. Like you, I was under the impression that the Ministry had the dementor population under control."

The attention shifted to Minister Fudge, who was looking oddly composed for the situation he found himself in.

"To the best of my knowledge, the dementors are under Ministry control; but clearly Bellatrix Lestrange was able to win a few of them to her cause."

Some members of the chamber whispered worriedly at the proclamation. Surprisingly, it was Jebediah Parkinson who spoke up.

"Minister Fudge, last month when the Wizengamot inspected Azkaban you personally assured me that the dementors were only a threat to the inmates at Azkaban."

The minister began to look a bit flustered. _'Is that their angle?'_ He thought in shock. _'Are the purists pushing out Fudge?'_

He examined that section of the body and then attempted to catch Dumbledore's eyes.

Giving up on that idea, Sirius began to do some mental math; _'at least one election must occur every five years. Elections must be called by the Wizengamot. There has to be one in the next 90 days either way.'_ He realized.

The anger in the chamber was palpable, but his eyes were focused on a head of long, blonde hair glancing towards a stringy looking brunette.

It wasn't a shock when a second later Elizabeth Fawley called for an election to take place that spring, nor was it a shock when Cornelius Fudge and Amos Diggory accepted nominations right then and there.

As the room began to calm down, Lucius Malfoy stood for the first time.

"I would like to nominate Lord Octavius Nott to run for Minister of Magic."

' _Now there's a surprise.'_ He thought to himself. _'I always thought Lucy would be the one to run for office.'_

Octavius Nott wasn't known for his violence, or his outspoken pureblood supremacy. No, Octavius Nott was known for his ability as a businessman, though there had always been rumors about that family.

Nott accepted with a slight smile and a brief nod.

Before the meeting could be adjourned, Jebediah Parkinson stood up again, drawing everyone's attention to him.

"In light of today's tragedy, I think I speak for everyone in this chamber when I say enough is enough."

There was a murmur of agreement, though what they were agreeing to, nobody knew.

"Albus," Jebediah Parkinson addressed the man as if they were old friends; "everyone appreciates what you have done for the wizarding world. But after today's tragedy, it is apparent that you cannot be both Chief Warlock and Headmaster."

There was some uproar in the chamber, but not as much as he had expected.

' _Malfoy. They're going to nominate Malfoy as Chief Warlock.'_ He realized.

In the front of the room, he saw Dumbledore catch Doge's eye. _'Apparently Albus has figured out he's done as well and is going to nominate Doge.'_

He cringed. Even those who tolerated Dumbledore only did so because the headmaster had so much power; replacing him with a puppet wouldn't work out.

He couldn't allow a far-left Dumbledore disciple like Elphias Doge to run against Malfoy; the man wouldn't stand a chance.

' _I need someone more moderate, someone that would be acceptable to the Death Eaters and Dumbledore.'_

He took a glance around the room, before a smile graced his face.

Before either Dumbledore or Parkinson could make a nomination, he was on his feet.

"The House of Black would like to nominate Lord Edmund Boot to the position of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot." Sirius stated in his most pompous tone, pleased with his cunning. _'That would make even Cygnus proud.'_

The chamber quieted, and he saw Dumbledore glaring at him dangerously, Sirius replied with a smirk of his own.

The body debated for nearly an hour before Edmund Boot was voted to replace Albus Dumbledore as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

Boot was neither a Death Eater nor a supporter of Dumbledore. His family supplied potions to the ministry, but also to Hogwarts and many individual family's as well. He was smart, driven, independent, and well respected. Now his family would be given an opportunity to prove itself.

' _And his son is best friends with Harry.'_ He thought with a smirk.

* * *

It had taken nearly two weeks, but Harry and Daphne had finally gotten to the point where they could finally attempt the first practical portion of their runes project.

"Where are we going?" The witch next to him asked for the third time.

"An unused part of the castle." Was his quick reply. From next to him he could tell that Greengrass was becoming annoyed, and he smirked inwardly.

He was taking her to the classroom next to where Dumbledore had taught transfiguration.

A few minutes later the pair entered a dark, dusty room filled with broken desks and chairs.

His partner took a few minutes to inspect the room.

"This is perfect!" She said excitedly. "I'll take the back two corners, you start on the corners closest to the door."

He gave her a nod and headed towards the front left corner.

Their project was simple, but time consuming. The pair had settled on carving runes into a specific, large area and then enchanting them.

Charms such as unbreakable charms, everclean charms, and expansion charms were commonly woven into the rune structure of many magical rooms and flats. The rune scheme was designed so that those who have a basic understanding of both enchantments and runes

can apply them themselves, with practice.

He took a break between corners to wait for Daphne.

The Slytherin witch was a meticulous perfectionist, he had learned.

Thirty seconds later the girl silently headed over to his corner, inspecting his work as he did the same to hers. The pair - or rather Daphne - decided the most constructive way to complete their project was to check each other's work for mistakes, then provide feedback each other with feedback.

Personally, he thought it was a waste of time. His work was always perfect.

But hers wasn't. "Your permanence rune is too small." He yelled across the room.

Daphne was next to him a moment later, observing her work.

"You're right." She replied a few moments later, removing her carving knife and erasing the rune to start anew.

Daphne may be proud, and stubborn; but to his pleasant surprise, she was more than willing to admit when she made mistakes.

An hour later they were almost ready to begin powering the runes.

"Hold on a second!" He called out.

Daphne paused and gave him a questioning look. He smiled sheepishly at her, removing a camera from his bag and waving it towards her, the blonde offered him a small smile as he began to document the before and after look of the room.

Another minute later and the pair stood at opposite ends of the classroom.

"On the count of three." She said.

"One."

Harry took a deep breath and shut his eyes.

"Two."

He placed his wand on the runes.

"Three."

He let his magic loose, maintaining his focus on the light, yellow glow in front of him.

Several seconds later the room was filled with a building yellow light; he smiled knowing they were almost done.

A second later the light exploded, and the room went dark; he felt woozy as he worked to regain his balance.

"Lumos." He cast softly. In front of him he could see Daphne still sitting on the ground, head in her hands.

"Are you okay?" He said with a small amount of concern.

Greengrass frowned. "I'm fine, Harry. Just help me up."

He smiled and felt her soft palm grip his. He let her hand linger in his grip for a few seconds before Daphne pulled away.

Looking around the now clean room, the girl smiled. "It looks like we were successful."

Her smile turned into a frown as she looked at the still broken furniture.

"We can work on the repairing enchantment next time."

Harry offered her a nod, eager to get to his bed.

The pair walked in a comfortable silence back towards the main part of the castle.

"Harry..." his partner started; he couldn't help but notice the nervous tinge in her voice.

He turned to look at her. "Yes Daphne?"

When she didn't scold him for using her first name, he smiled again. _'Progress.'_ He thought to himself.

"I'm going to study with you." There was no question in her voice, just a statement of fact.

He nodded her way. "You're more than welcome to study with Lily, Terry, and myself."

She let out a frustrated groan. "Not with those idiots."

At his raised eyebrow, she quickly elaborated.

"I love Lily; and Boot definitely has his uses, but I want to duel with you."

He kept the surprise from his face. "You want to duel, with me?"

She nodded eagerly. "You're one of the few people in this school who challenge me. Dueling is more fun when it's a challenge, and I'm not improving by practicing against _Malfoy._ Even with Avery's tutoring the boy isn't particularly good."

He nodded in agreement. "How about Sunday afternoons?"

She smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

* * *

Albus stepped out of the floo and into Sirius's study at Grimmauld Place.

"Good evening, Sirius."

"Albus." The man responded. "Can I offer you a drink?"

He declined. "I'm sure you're wondering what I'm doing here?"

The other man nodded. "Your letter was unusually vague."

The headmaster looked at the man in front of him for a second, reaching out lightly with legilimency, only to be met with meager occlumency shields.

Sirius narrowed his eyes; "I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of my mind, Dumbledore."

"You've been practicing your occlumency." He nodded approvingly.

"I've been getting reacquainted with the subject." The other man admitted.

"Septima has been helping you, I presume?"

Black sighed; "why am I not surprised?" He started, before answering his question. "Yes, Septima has been a great help."

"And how is your relationship with Ms. Vector going?" Albus asked, he _was_ genuinely curious. The woman had obviously had a positive effect on the man's recovery.

"Why are you here, Albus?" Sirius asked, returning to the original question.

He sighed, some people couldn't appreciate small talk. "I'm sure you remember our talk from this summer, about your brother?"

Sirius frowned. "Yes. You were trying to convince me that he betrayed his master."

Albus just nodded, ignoring the venom in the younger man's voice. "Regulus did eventually betray Voldemort."

Sirius sat in silence. "Do you have proof?"

Albus removed the letter he had retrieved from a cave near Tom Riddle's orphanage and handed it to Sirius.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"And you're sure this is Regulus Arcturus Black?" He asked with uncertainty.

Dumbledore looked him in the eyes; "no. I'm not. But your brother is the most likely candidate, and I'd like to start my search here."

"And what exactly are you looking for?" Sirius asked.

Dumbledore scratched his long, grey, beard in thought. "A locket that used to belong to the Slytherin family, I believe it contains a piece of Voldemort's soul."

A look of disgust crossed Sirius's face.

"Kreacher!" Black yelled, his elf appearing a second later.

"Yes, Master Sirius?"

The headmaster swore the elf was forcing respect into its tone.

"Did you ever see Master Regulus with a locket?"

Tears welled up in the elf's wide eyes, and Albus smiled. _'The elf knows what we're talking about.'_

"Master Regulus did not show Kreacher a locket." _'That wasn't the question.'_ He thought to himself.

He decided to interrupt. "Kreacher." He started softly. "Regulus was a great man." The elf's big ears perked up at his praise of its former master. "He was killed because of that locket, I wish to destroy it."

A determined look crossed the elf's face; "if Master Regulus had evil locket. Kreacher will find it."

The elf disappeared a moment later, and the two men sat in silence.

"Why did you nominate Edmund Boot to replace me, Sirius?" The question had bothered him for the last several weeks.

Sirius ran a hand through his black hair. _'I wonder if he realizes how much he looks like James when he does that?'_ Albus thought sadly to himself.

"You were going to nominate Doge." Sirius said with a shrug.

Albus was confused; "I was." He replied.

"Doge would never have beat Lucius. If someone to the right of Boot were to run, they'd look like an extremist." Sirius explained logically.

He frowned. "Sirius…" He started in a disappointed tone. "When did you lose your faith in me?"

As soon as the words left his lips, Albus knew he had made a mistake.

Sirius's nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed; he didn't shout, but his voice carried throughout the study.

"I lost faith in you when you left me to rot in Azkaban."

His response was predictable but didn't sting any less.

He was interrupted from having to respond by the return of Kreacher.

"You will find evil locket in Master Regulus's desk drawer." The elf said with a shiver.

Deciding to ignore Sirius's response; he asked Kreacher to lead him to Regulus's room and left a fuming Sirius in silence.

* * *

"Have a great holiday class! I'll see you all after break."

She sighed as her third-year runes class excitedly made their way towards the door.

' _Finally.'_ She thought to herself, rubbing her temples lightly with her fingertips.

The end of term was always a stressful time of year, and Septima Vector was looking forward to some well-earned time off.

"Professor Vector?" Her thoughts were interrupted by the young Ravenclaw in front of her.

"What can I do for you, Harry?" Septima offered with a bright smile.

The boy looked slightly uncomfortable, she noticed.

"Sirius told me you were helping him with occlumency, I was wondering if you would be willing to help me as well?"

She flashed him a genuine smile. "Of course! If you're still feeling up to it after the ritual tomorrow, then we can practice then, if not we can start on Christmas Eve."

Harry thought for a second. "Will be able to after the 'Ritual of Gabriel?'" He asked.

Septima offered him another smile. "Yes, this ritual is much less taxing."

Harry nodded his head slightly, and she allowed some hesitation to creep into her voice.

"Have you considered any other rituals?"

Her student looked at her questioningly; "not really."

"You should." She stated. "Sirius says that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named isn't really gone, he worries that it's only a matter of time till he returns. I'd like to know you did everything in your power to protect yourself, should you become a target."

Harry gave her a grateful look.

"Just think about it, Harry. I would be there to help you." She offered him another dazzling smile, and the child blushed slightly before telling her he'd think about it and heading towards the door.

Once Harry left the room, Septima entered her office only to be greeted by a familiar tawny owl sitting in the windowsill.

Instantly feeling a little better, she grabbed the letter from the owl, and began to read, an ever-growing smile gracing her lips.

* * *

Heavy snow crashed against the windows of the Hogwarts Express as it headed towards London.

"Are you doing the Ritual of Gabriel tonight?" Terry asked from across him.

The compartment was empty besides the pair of them. The normally noisy train was almost eerily quiet, still in mourning over the attack almost two months prior.

In Ravenclaw, Michael Corner, had been mourning the loss of his childhood friend, Megan Jones.

The subdued nature of the journey, combined with his successful casting of the privacy ward _'Certior Fieri Proximitas'_ provided the boys with a sense of privacy, and Harry a sense of accomplishment.

"Yes." Was his response. To the best of his knowledge, Septima and Sirius were preparing for it right now.

The 'Ritual of Gabriel' was less physically taxing then its counterpart and would ensure he stayed properly nourished. While the ritual provided no visible changes to his body, it did mean he was less likely to suffer from minor illnesses.

"You're not doing it, are you?" Harry asked conversationally, knowing his friend hadn't completed the 'Ritual of Josephine.'

"Josephine is a prerequisite." Was Terry's predictable response.

The pair fell into a compatible silence as he turned his attention to his introductory book on conjuration.

"Harry." Terry spoke up some time later.

"Yes." He responded, not looking up from his book.

"Why did you drag out your duel with Malfoy?"

Shortly after Halloween the first matchups of the year were announced. With each house fielding three duelers each for third, fourth, and fifth years, it meant that he had to wait until the end of the year to take his revenge on Daphne, but also meant he had new opponents.

"He used to make fun of Daphne, now he keeps asking her to Hogsmeade; she doesn't like him." He frowned, Draco Malfoy had started to become a pest. "He also shoots me glares in the halls."

Terry nodded. "I've heard he's jealous of you."

Harry just grunted. Despite his training with Daniel Avery; Draco Malfoy couldn't stand a chance in the pits against him, that meant something to Daphne.

"Are you excited to face off against Diggory and Johnson?"

His matches in February were brutal as he faced off against the two best duelers in their grouping, and the only two students in the school who both dueled and played quidditch.

"Yes, although I wish they would have split them up."

Terry nodded in sympathy.

"Do you have any plans for the holiday?" He asked the lanky brunette.

Boot groaned. "I have several holiday party's my father is making me attend."

"How does he like his new role?" Harry asked in curiosity. The Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot was essentially second in command should anything happen to the Minister.

A grin stretched across his face. "It's going great! He says if he plays his cards right, it will elevate our status _and_ wealth!"

If he had noticed one thing about this small community, it was that giving a family the opportunity to break into the upper-echelon of society was the best way to earn an invaluable ally. After seeing Terry's reaction his father's new prestige, it seemed that Sirius had all but confirmed that theory.

"Will you be at Longbottom's party, on Boxing Day?" Harry asked. _'It would good to have a friendly face there.'_ He knew from Lily that her family hadn't been invited.

Terry nodded in affirmation. "Of course, how about you?"

He gave his friend a smile. "Of course."

They spent the next hour in silence, as Harry practiced the wand movements necessary for the various conjurations he was reading about, adding notes to his journal as he went.

"Who does your father think will win the election?"

Terry gave him an odd look. "Since when do you care about politics?"

He frowned; "I _do_ care; just not as much as you."

The bespectacled boy rolled his eyes. "He thinks Octavius Nott will win the election."

Harry nodded. Sirius had come to the same conclusion. Nott was a great nominee, according to his godfather. He was smart, successful, and from a good family; and while his name may have been implicated as a Voldemort supporter, nobody in his family wore the dark mark, or openly supported his cause, and nothing had ever been proved. As far as society was concerned, the Nott family was perfectly respectable.

"What would that mean?"

Terry shrugged. "Nothing, unless you truly think Voldemort is coming back."

Harry growled in anger, they'd had this talk before; but until there was proof, Terry was skeptical of Harry's claim that Voldemort wasn't dead.

"You know I do, Boot."

Terry ignored the use of his surname.

"Well if you think the Dark Lord is anything less-than-dead, then it would mean that another person who was allegedly close to the Dark Lord has a significant degree of power."

Harry was confused. "Another?"

Boot nodded; "well there's Professor's Nott and Snape, Snape was actually a Death Eater at one point in time."

Harry's eye's widened, but Boot continued.

"Then there's Daniel Avery; he is 'security' at Hogwarts, but his father and grandfather both broke out of Azkaban a few years ago and were in the Dark Lord's inner circle. Lucius Malfoy is rumored to have had a role in both the Azkaban breakout _and_ Bulgaria's giving sanctuary to the Lestrange family; then there's the Macnair's, and Carrow's both of whom are in the Wizengamot.

"How do you know all of this?" Harry asked in shock.

"Every family has their secrets Harry. One of ours is we know everyone else's."

* * *

It took him less than a day to recover from the ritual, and by Christmas Eve Harry felt better than he could remember.

"Harry!" He heard his godfather yell from down the hall. "Join me in the kitchen!"

Curious to see what had Sirius so excited, he threw on a maroon cardigan and headed towards the kitchen.

As he approached, he could hear two voices getting progressively louder; the first, the familiar excited delivery of his godfather; the second unfamiliar, the man almost seemed to growl as he laughed.

Stepping into the kitchen he was greeted by the smiling face of Sirius, and a sickly looking brunette man in shabby robes.

"Harry!" the dog animagus addressed him as he made his way towards the oval table. "I'd like you to meet Remus Lupin."

With the slightest bit of trepidation, the older man reached out with his hand.

After introductions Remus took a second to eye him. "Sirius told me about your runes project; how's it coming along?"

He smiled. "Daphne and I have completed and charged the necessary runes to keep the room clean, and we just finished transfiguring all the broken furniture and imbibing them with unbreakable charms."

Remus looked impressed, but Sirius just stared at him blankly. "Tell Moony about what's next."

Harry smiled. They had just finished the theory on how they were going to lock the door using a password and hoped to have that done by March.

"The old classroom has been quite the project." He started. "We've spent hours cleaning, repairing, and designing the room, right now anyone can just walk in. We're going to protect it with a password."

Lupin rubbed his chin in thought. "Are you going to hide it with a portrait?"

Harry smiled; "no, we're just going to charm the door. We also hope to include some proximity runes, and maybe even a ward."

"I wonder if the Marauder's Map would recognize the room." Lupin thought out loud.

Harry offered him a dumb look. "The what?" He said, perplexed.

"The Marauder's Map? Sirius hasn't told you about our old school group?"

His godfather looked ashamed. "I had honestly forgot."

Lupin shrugged but continued. "Your father, myself, Sirius, and _Pettigrew."_ Were all best friends in school, we called ourselves the Marauders, and gave each other nicknames. James was Prongs, Sirius was Padfoot, I was Moony, and then there was Scabbers." He finished the last name in disgust.

"I don't get it." Harry deadpanned.

Lupin looked at him as if he were slow, then turned towards Sirius; "I thought you said he was smart?"

His godfather grinned; "book smart." He said, turning to Harry; "we were best friends with nicknames based on our animagus forms. I was Padfoot, because I was a dog; your father was Prongs because he was a stag; Peter was Scabbers because he's a rat, and Remus is Moony because he's a Werewolf."

Harry almost spat up his butterbeer at the last bit but kept his composure and settled for nodding his head dumbly instead.

"And what's the Marauder's Map?"

Some unseen tension seemed to leave the room; and a smile came over Remus's face. "It's the marauders greatest creation."

Several hours later found the trio; plus, Septima and the Tonks family; enjoying a glass of wine in the living room by the Christmas tree.

"And you're sure I can try some wine?" Sirius gave Septima a look, and the brunette witch threw her hands up on the air.

"Don't give me that look, he's your godson!"

"I've always found encouragement from a beautiful witch to be really influential." Sirius said, wrapping his arms around the young warding professor.

She laughed; "he's my student!" She admonished, grabbing the front of Sirius's robes and planting a kiss on his lips.

Harry sighed before promptly drinking half of his glass, grimacing at the bitter taste.

"You see!" Sirius pointed out, it's working."

Septima rolled her eyes, and Tonks spoke up.

"How's your friend doing, Harry? You wrote that she had almost been kissed by a dementor?"

The room got eerily quiet, and Harry scowled slightly.

"Lily's doing much better." He frowned, in truth she had become more paranoid in the last two months.

Septima cut in; "it's been a very difficult couple of months at school." She acknowledged, saving him from having to respond.

Changing the subject; Septima rattled on. "I've been very impressed by the progress you and Daphne have made, Harry. Are you still planning on adding some wards in by the end of the year?"

Harry smiled. "I am. Would you mind helping me when I'm ready."

The beautiful professor offered him a soft smile. "Of course."

* * *

The study was her favorite room in the entire house; with large windows overlooking the rolling hills that made up their property, Daphne loved nothing more than to curl up in her father's comfortable leather chair with a book.

"Open this one next, Daph!" Astoria yelled in excitement.

The frail brunette shoved a sloppily wrapped present into her arms, much to her chagrin, and her mother's amusement.

Personality wise, the Greengrass girls couldn't be more different. While Astoria was warm and friendly - like their mother - Daphne was more aloof and calculating, taking after their father.

She offered her sister a soft smile as she opened the gift to reveal a golden locket with a picture of them both inside.

"Thank you, Astoria." She said offering her a gentle smile.

Christmas was one of the few times of the year the Greengrass family spent the entire day as a family; enjoying a large breakfast before opening family gifts in the study.

While she loved the family time, she was eager to get the whole ordeal over with, so she could return to the library - it was her first time having complete access to it since she turned fourteen in October.

Forty-five minutes later Daphne sighed in delight as she entered the library.

Her family wasn't traditionally wealthy, like the Malfoy's or the Nott's, but her family's library was more than adequate.

Making her way past several bookshelves, she entered a side chamber to her right, taking in several rows of crystal vials filled with secrets as she made her way towards the stone basin in front of her.

Her father had been generous in allowing her access to specific memories in this room, but unfettered access came with age, and Daphne finally had a chance to explore.

Picking up a memory at random she walked over to the pensieve before jumping in.

She was in her family's garden.

" _What's the matter, dear?"_ She heard a, familiar, firm voice say as she rounded the corner into the garden.

Although she had never met her aunt, she would recognize that voice anywhere.

A younger, attractive dark-haired witch sat across from Ophelia, and her blood began to boil at the sight of the traitor. What interested Daphne was the uncharacteristically worried look on Lestrange's face.

" _The Dark Lord has entrusted me with a possession."_

Daphne got as close as she could to Ophelia, and peered in, not wanting to miss a word of the seemingly important conversation unfolding in front of her.

" _And what is this possession?"_ Ophelia responded, the slightest tinge of curiosity evident in her voice.

" _A cup."_ Her great aunt raised an eyebrow, an annoyed look on her face.

Sensing the looming danger, Lestrange rushed to finish her explanation. _"More specifically, something called a 'horcrux.'"_

Ophelia's grey eyes shot up at the mention of the foreign word.

" _Are you sure?"_ Ophelia questioned, a look of disgust evident on her features.

" _Yes. I don't know what to do with it?"_ The younger woman admitted.

" _Lock it away and speak of it to nobody, Black."_ Her aunt responded, sternly.

" _I can't believe Riddle would go to such extremes."_

Riddle.

That name reminded her of Harry's room. _'Wasn't the founder of that room a 'Tom Riddle?'_ She thought to herself, remembering how she had seen the name in one of her aunt's diaries.

" _Why did you burden me with this, Bellatrix? No good can come from me having this knowledge."_

Lestrange eyed her; _"I don't know what a horcrux is."_ The black-haired psychopath admitted.

" _It's a soul-container."_ Ophelia said seriously. _"It's the worst thing a person can do to themselves."_

Withdrawing from the ending memory, she shivered slightly, if she was right she may have just discovered a memory worth killing for.

* * *

His father tugged slightly at his navy-blue dress robes. "This way, Terry." Edmund Boot said, dragging him towards the hosts of the party.

"Augusta!" His father cried out, greeting the surly, elderly woman with a deep bow.

"Lord Boot." Augusta curtsied slightly in return. "I'm glad you could make it, although I was hoping to speak to Melissa as well."

His father smiled. "You know her, can't drag her away from the cauldron." They all chuckled lightly.

"You remember my son, Terry." The Longbottom matriarch gave him something resembling a smile.

"Of course, Edmund. Your son and Neville are in the same year at Hogwarts."

The adults continued their conversation while he turned to Neville for the first time.

"Having a good holiday, Neville?"

The chubby boy gave him a smile; surprise, happiness, and an image of a strange plant assaulted Terry's mind as he took in the Gryffindors response.

"And this 'shrivelfig,' what are its uses?" He asked, already aware of the many uses of a shrivelfig.

"The plant has many medicinal properties!" The other boy started excitedly.

Tuning him out Terry searched the boys surface thoughts.

To his surprise, he wasn't the only one with a wandering eye; while animatedly explaining the shrivelfig, Neville was simultaneously eyeing Jacob Abbott and his daughter Hannah talking with the Bones'.

A few minutes later the conversations wrapped up; with a quick _'muffliato'_ his father turned to him.

"What have you learned tonight?"

Terry smiled. "Ernie Macmillan has a crush on Michael Corner, and is really confused about the whole situation. Jacob Abbott is torn between Fudge and Diggory for Minister of Magic; and Neville Longbottom has a crush on Hannah Abbott." Terry surmised.

His father nodded in approval. "I would like you to introduce me to Mr. Potter."

Terry nodded slightly, taking a brief glance around the room.

Eyeing Harry's dark emerald dress robes speaking with Dipesh Patil, he started walking confidently in that direction, his father at his heels.

The pair waited politely for Harry and his godfather to wrap up their conversation with the Indian Ambassador before making their approach.

"Harry!" he smiled, greeting his friend with a firm handshake.

The shorter boy returned his smile. "I'd like to introduce you to my father, Edmund."

His friend turned to his father, offering a polite bow; "Chief Warlock, it's a pleasure to formally meet you, and congratulations on your appointment."

' _He's gotten better.'_ Terry thought to himself, remembering the disaster that was an eleven-year-old Harry Potter.

"The pleasure is mine, Heir Potter, my son talks about you often."

Terry saw his friend grimace at the formal title, but he regained his composure.

"Let me introduce you to my godfather, Lord Sirius Black."

The tall, pale man didn't offer his father a bow, instead offering him his hand.

Instead of taking offense, his father shook his hand firmly.

"Lord Black, thank you for nominating me to my current post, I am most grateful."

Black smiled. "You were more than qualified for the position, Edmund. I only nominated you, you have to do the work."

"But _why_ did you nominate me, Sirius?" His father asked in exasperation.

Harry's godfather just smiled; "I have my reasons."

"Get anything interesting for Christmas? Thanks for the book on finance, by the way, I've never read a book on muggle methods before." Terry started, ignoring the rest of his father's conversation with Lord Black.

His friend smiled. "Thanks for the _interesting_ book on rituals."

Terry smiled. "I saw it and immediately thought of you!" He laughed.

"Well thank you. Besides that, I got several other books, candy, an interesting dagger from Daphne, a book on poison antidotes from Lily, and a broom from Sirius - apparently I spend too much time on the ground."

"A book on antidotes?" He asked in confusion.

Harry laughed. "Daphne has a new-found obsession with poisons, apparently Lily is worried about my health."

Terry just laughed.

"Are you excited for the second duels?" He asked.

As Harry began to answer his question, Terry took a deep breath, and with the slightest bit of hesitation, he touched Harry's mind.

His friends smile immediately turned deadly, and Terry knew he had fucked up.

"What was that, Terry." The tone was so severe that it had caught Blacks attention.

He was caught, and he knew it. _'I can still salvage this.'_

"You've gotten much better at occlumency." He said with approval.

In front of him, he caught his dad's disappointment.

Harry was apoplectic; " _why_ were you attempting to use legilimency on me, Boot?"

He winced. "I - I'm sorry Harry. It won't happen again!" He pleaded.

"No, it won't." Was Harry's cold response.

"I could have your son brought up on charges, Chief Warlock." Sirius Black said, the threat evident in his voice.

His father scowled at him. _'I'll have to take this.'_ He thought.

"Yes, yes you could." His father agreed, harshly.

"Terry, we're leaving. We'll talk more about this when we get home." Rage ran across Edmund Boots face - whether it was directed at him for getting caught, or at him for potentially costing them an ally he couldn't tell.

With that the Boots uttered a quick apology, leaving two enraged, powerful men in their wake.

* * *

The dueling pit used for the third through fifth years duels came with a much larger student section, she thought to herself as she chatted mindlessly with Blaise, waiting for Harry's duel with Diggory to begin.

Lily yawned in exhaustion; from next to her Blaise gave her a concerned look.

"You need to get some sleep, Lily."

She frowned. She was well-aware of the bags under her eyes; but sleep brought nightmares, and if she had to see her brother die in front of her one more time…

"I know, I know." She shrugged off I'll grab some dreamless sleep from the infirmary after the duels.

Blaise nodded in approval, and she smiled at his concern.

In the pit, Harry and Cedric Diggory bowed to each other.

"I wonder how Potter will respond to a loss?" Blaise pondered.

Lily frowned. Not a half hour earlier Harry had suffered his first loss of the year to Angelina Johnson. _'Daphne beat her.'_ She thought with a smile, knowing her friend would be gloating in the common room later. Fortunately, Harry had an opportunity to redeem himself against the undefeated Hufflepuff.

The duel started with gusto as Harry immediately seized the advantage.

Diggory was unbothered by being put on the defensive; preferring to counter where he could rather than face the talented Ravenclaw head on.

"That's an impressive bit of transfiguration." Blaise said approvingly as Harry sent a group of rocks speeding at Diggory.

Diggory shielded with a brick wall, sending several piercing curses Harry's way.

Diggory wasn't the most powerful wizard, but he was smart, and he was accurate - winning most of his duels by anticipating the movements of his opponents.

Harry dodged the first two piercing curses, before taking one to the leg.

Lily grimaced for her friend.

She had no idea what would have happened to her if Harry hadn't been with her in Hogsmeade that day.

' _I wonder what he heard?'_ She thought to herself as she watched her friend hit Diggory in the chest with a bone breaker.

His movement hindered from his presumably broken leg, Harry had been forced into a more defensive position.

From the dueler's section, she saw her friend's green eyes watching Harry with interest as a ball of fire lept from his holly wand.

Diggory countered with a dome of water before sending some transfigured dogs Harry's way.

Harry killed the dogs with some cutters, returning fire with a familiar ball of water, which the black-haired boy froze mid-air.

The spell burst through Diggory's shield, forcing him to the edge of the circle.

Seizing the advantage, Harry followed up with a barrage of spells, catching Diggory with a banishing charm, forcing him backward and out of the circle.

"Potter wins!" She heard the referee cry out over the applause of the crowd.

Blaise turned to her. "Come on Lily, you've had your fun. Let's get you to the infirmary." He said, wrapping his arm around her waist and leading her to the exit.

* * *

The student lounge was busy for a Thursday night, he noticed as he took a seat in a corner near the fireplace.

Terry had found that this particular seat gave him a perfect view of the entire room, allowing him to easily observe the other students.

A loud noise drew his attention to Cho Chang, who only a moment ago had been gossiping about Cedric Diggory with Edgecombe, was now sporting bright blue hair. A few feet away Fred and George Weasley were observing the situation with intense scrutiny, whispering quietly to one another, taking notes on merlin knows what.

From the corner of his eye, a solitary blonde figure in dark violet robes approached confidently, stopping in front of his chair.

"Good evening, Greengrass."

The girl gave him a look that he imagined was supposed to intimidate him; "Boot."

He sighed when she didn't continue. "What can I do for you?"

"Potter." The Slytherin responded. "I want information about Potter."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Well I'm hardly the person to ask. We've hardly spoken in the last few months."

Daphne waved him off. "Lily tells me you're still showing up to his tutoring sessions; I'm sure you two will work it out."

He hoped. His father had been livid after his mistake; more importantly, he felt bad for violating Harry's trust. The last few months had been lonely.

"What do you want with Harry?" He asked suspiciously.

"None of your concern, Boot. Name your price."

He frowned. "No."

"No?" She repeated back to him.

"No. I will not give you information about my friend."

' _She looks agitated.'_ He thought to himself.

"I can give you information on Slytherin?" She asked hopefully.

' _She must be desperate.'_

"I have my sources, I'll pass."

The pretty girl in front of him sighed in defeat, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding; 14 or not, Daphne Greengrass was _dangerous._

"I'm interested in him, that's all. He's smart, driven, and good-looking. I was hoping to learn more about him."

Terry smiled inwardly. _'Maybe that piece of information will get me back in Harry's good graces?'_

It was obvious his friend harbored feelings for the Slytherin pureblood.

"You probably know more about him than I do, honestly."

She persisted. "We work on runes, duel, and occasionally ask each other for help. Rarely do we talk personal details. I just want to know how he's perceived in Ravenclaw, what he's working on, his interests; you know, basic stuff."

"So you can manipulate him." He countered.

"No." She shook her head. "So I can get to know him better. I like to be prepared."

He thought for a second before an idea came to him; he smiled cruelly.

"I heard one time that a blood malediction was placed on the Greengrass family, is that true?"

Fury briefly swept across Daphne's face, before a cold rage settled across her sharp features.

Her reaction was all the proof he needed.

"Harry is an outcast within Ravenclaw." He said abruptly.

It was clear from her reaction that he had captured her interest.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Jealousy, his general demeanor, the fact that he's not afraid to show off, for starters." He listed.

"They hate him because he's smart and driven?" She asked, confused.

"That's one way to look at it." He stated. "Another is that he's an arrogant showoff."

The girl in front of him scrunched her face up in displeasure. "What miserable twats."

Terry chuckled. "They're also scared of him; Harry's ruthless."

Daphne nodded. "What sort of things is he working on?"

He shrugged; "last time we talked, he was working on warding and conjuration, but that was at Christmas."

"I already knew that!" She snapped at him, causing him to recoil.

"Tell me something I don't know, tell me something that doesn't involve school." Daphne demanded.

He thought for a second, rubbing his chin.

"Harry's godfather is dating professor Vector, she's teaching him occlumency."

She raised a well-manicured eyebrow at him. "Why does he need to learn occlumency?" She said, before quickly adding, pointing at him; "outside the obvious, of course."

He gave her a long-look. "Harry claims that the Dark Lord isn't dead."

Terry expected more of a reaction from the girl, but she just gave a sharp nod of her head, then walked away.

* * *

"Hi Harry!" She said brightly.

The raven-haired boy gave her a strange look, and she blushed.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" He asked.

They were standing inside their room in early April and she couldn't help but be proud at what they had accomplished since the start of the year.

Daphne glared at the boy. "I didn't realize I was such an emotionless husk." She deadpanned.

Harry blushed cutely, earning him a small smile.

"Besides. Professor Vector said the theory on our password protected door is perfect. We can carve the runes whenever you want."

Harry offered her a bright smile. "That's great! She also went over some minor pain wards with me, so anyone who isn't authorized will feel a stinging hex until they leave."

She was impressed, she didn't think he would be able to start warding the room until next year, and she didn't think he would want to start with pain wards.

"Can you make them work."

He frowned, and she noticed the way his forehead crinkled inwards when he was thinking intently.

"I think I can get them to work properly by the end of the year."

It was her turn to smile.

"You spend quite a bit of time after class working with Professor Vector, you don't have a crush on her, do you?" She teased, watching his reaction intently.

He blushed slightly, and she frowned.

"Septima is dating my godfather." He replied. "She helps me with certain subjects."

"Like what?" She asked.

She patiently let Harry think about his response.

"Runes, warding, and occlumency, primarily." He said

She nodded, throwing an impressed look on her face. _'Boot was right.'_

They sat in silence at their ornately decorated desks for a few minutes.

"Daphne?" His soft voice interrupted her from her reading.

"Hmm?" Was her response.

"What's your history with Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Instead of getting mad like she would with most, she was pleasantly surprised to realize that she didn't mind Harry's prying.

But _that_ particular topic was like an onion.

She weighed her options; and decided on telling him a part of the story.

"My Great Aunt Ophelia was a wonderful, powerful, independent woman." She started, trying to keep the admiration out of her voice.

"When she was younger she led Grindelwald's forces across continental Europe."

She paused there, waiting for the question, but it never came; she smiled again and continued.

"After Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald. Dumbledore and the International Confederation of Wizards cut a deal with Ophelia; she was to live the rest of her life at Greengrass 'Manor' here in Britain."

Harry paid rapt attention to her family history lesson, silently encouraging her to continue.

"Back in the 1940's, my family took a loan out from the Black family." She said with disgust.

"What does my godfather's family have to do with your aunt and Bellatrix?" _'He really is ignorant.'_ She had thought Lily had been exaggerating.

"Bellatrix Lestrange's maiden name is Black, pay attention."

She took a sip of water and continued. "The payment was due, in full by 1963. When my family couldn't pay; my grandfather worked out a deal with Cygnus Black; who had a prodigious daughter entering her second year who needed training. In exchange for forgiving the debt - my Aunt Ophelia agreed to mentor Bellatrix Black."

Harry stared at her in interest, and she could only imagine what was going through his mind - she resisted the desire to attempt legilimency on him, remembering what Boot had told her.

"What happened?" He asked.

' _Bellatrix Black married into the Lestrange family.'_ She wanted to say.

"Ophelia learned something she shouldn't have, and the bitch took her down while my aunt had her back turned." She spat out in disgust.

' _A partial truth is better than a lie.'_

"What about you, tell me about growing up with muggles?" She spat out, trying to change the subject.

He grimaced and returned her look of disgust.

"They were the most miserable creatures on the planet…." He began.

She smiled as Harry told her an equally true story from his childhood.

* * *

Severus Snape took a glance around the unfamiliar room, his usual sneer making its way across his face.

' _Bellatrix, Lucius, and Pettigrew.'_ Severus looked at Pettigrew with a particular look of disgust.

"Good evening, everyone." Lucius' voice echoed throughout the room. "Thank you for joining me."

"Where are we, Lucius?" Bellatrix snapped.

"A safe room on a Malfoy property."

The answer seemed to suffice, as Bellatrix took to examining each person in the room with varying degrees of suspicion.

"I'm glad you all could make it; what we have to discuss wouldn't be safe to send in post."

"Or with Severus in the room." Bellatrix snapped, shooting him a suspicious glare.

He returned her glare with a bored expression. "I am no more a traitor than you, Bella."

When nobody responded, Malfoy continued. "Our Lord should be ready to return to his body within the year."

At the proclamation Bellatrix's expression turned from mistrust to glee, while next to him Pettigrew tensed slightly.

"Bellatrix, will you be ready?" She offered Malfoy a cruel smile, causing him to shiver.

"Of course."

"What will you need of me?" He spoke up.

Lucius considered him for a moment. "For now? Nothing. Do you have an update for us?"

"Yes." He started. "Kingsley Shacklebolt will not be returning to Hogwarts next year, Dumbledore is pressuring Alastor Moody to take over the post."

Lucius paled.

"That would not be good for us." Lucius said with a sense of dread.

Bellatrix scoffed. "Moody will not be the next Defense Professor at Hogwarts." She smiled. "I'm told my _niece_ will likely replace Shacklebolt."

"And what would you know about Hogwarts, Bellatrix?" He sneered.

She smiled cruelly.

"You aren't the only eyes in the school, Sevvie." She cooed.

Lucius cut off his response.

"Pettigrew!"

The plump man shied away nervously at having attention on himself, and quickly gave his update.

"Harry Potter spends most of his time with Daphne Greengrass, or Lily Moon."

Severus groaned. The boy's friendship with two of his snakes was a dark spot on his record.

"Not Boot?" Malfoy asked.

"No." Pettigrew responded. "They had some sort of falling out."

Bellatrix smiled but said nothing.

The meeting continued for the next several minutes, but one thing had become abundantly clear; Bellatrix Lestrange had a spy in Hogwarts.

The question now was; what did he do about it?

* * *

"Nice work Harry!" He boomed, as a bout of silver mist erupted from the third years wand.

Kingsley smiled, the boys grasp of the Patronus Charm was incredible for his age.

His student just groaned in frustration. "Why can't I get it to work, professor?" Harry questioned.

He offered the boy a broad smile. "It takes lots of practice, many grown wizards cannot even produce the mist."

Harry just groaned.

"Professor," Harry asked a few seconds later; "do you think the next Defense professor will allow me to skip a year?"

Kingsley thought about it for a second; knowing it was likely Nymphadora would insist on it. The girl had become quite fond of the boy.

"Concentrate on your exams, for now, Harry." He said with a smile.

The boy left his office a few seconds later.

"He's making great strides, isn't he Kingsley?"

The man turned to face the old Headmaster.

"He is very impressive, Albus."

* * *

He pushed back, _hard_ at the intrusion as a mind that wasn't his own fought for control of his body.

Barty Crouch pushed with all his might against the foreign presence, as his head exploded in pain.

He screamed as he thrashed about the room, knocking a lamp off his nightstand.

The pain subsided instantly, and he felt pure bliss as his body moved of its own accord throughout the room.

Stopping in front of the mirror to examine himself; Barty Crouch's mind didn't even register the fact that a pair of unfamiliar red eyes were staring back at him.

* * *

"Winner, Slytherin!" The referee proclaimed loudly as the Slytherins roared in approval at her victory.

From their side, the Gryffindors booed as she dispatched of the previously undefeated Angelina Johnson.

She smiled in delight. Her victory meant that her upcoming duel with Harry would decide which one of the third years won the third through fifth year title.

Harry, she had to admit, however grudgingly, was a damn good duelist.

She looked forward to beating him.

She shielded the wide-area stunner and returned fire with a combination of bone-breakers and exploding hexes, throwing in an entrails expelling curse for good measure.

Harry's green-eyes widened in shock, at the violence of her barrage, but he rolled out of the way.

"Fulminis!" Her opponent shouted, and Daphne dove out of the way of the dark, purple lightning.

' _He's pulling his punches.'_ She thought as the lightning scorched the spot where she once stood.

As she was dodging the lightning, she was hit in the shoulder by an arrow. She let out a cry of pain as she felt the blood start to seep through her emerald dueling robes.

Potter didn't let up, and she was immediately on her heels, dispatching of a wolf that was bounding towards her.

The two caught each other's eyes, and they both smiled.

A second later Daphne was shielding against various projectiles.

She groaned in frustration. _'I have to regain control of this duel or I'm not going to make it.'_

Daphne sent an ice spear and a plethora of fireballs his way, catching him with the spear in the chest, impaling him.

She smiled victoriously, picturing the victory in her mind.

But instead of giving up, Potter spit out a pool of blood and sent a barrage of stunners her way.

Then things went black.

* * *

She hadn't spent much time in the dimly lit room this year, she thought to herself as she and Harry read silently, preparing for their final exams.

"Tom Riddle was bloody brilliant." He said loudly.

Daphne struggled internally. _'Do I tell him who I think Tom Riddle became?'_

Harry had the right to know who's books he was studying, who taught him how to curse objects and cast a heart-stopping curse.

But did she really want to take that advantage away from him? Would his finding out change him?

She bit her bottom lip, confused by the dilemma.

Making up her mind, Daphne said nothing and went back to reading.

* * *

The spy watched their target from underneath their invisibility cloak.

"I'll take a Meade, Rosey." The spies target squeaked.

The barmaid complied, and the spy made their way to the bathroom, removing the invisibility cloak and returning to the bar, they ordered their own Meade a second later.

Tipping Rosmerta, the spy removed a vial from their robe, the spy poured the poison into their own drink, and waited.

Nervous for the next part, the spy looked around the room, looking for a distraction. Spotting the Weasley twins near the bar, the spy smiled, reaching out with a touch of legilimency, urging them to cause a scene.

A few seconds later, the boys jumped up on top of the bar, and started to sing a song, immediately drawing attention to themselves.

The spy smiled, quickly casting a switching spell on their glass, the spy saw the liquid in their own glass change with that of their targets.

The spy watched tensely for a few minutes as Filius Flitwick talked animatedly with Pomona Sprout about something or another.

The spy exhaled as they saw the charms professor take a small sip of Meade.

The reaction was immediate, and the spy allowed a small smile to cross their face.

The tiny creature started to desperately claw at his throat as blood started to seep from his pores.

Someone screamed in horror, and with all their attention on the dying charms professor, nobody noticed when the spy slipped out a second later, completely unnoticed.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I don't normally write long A/N's, but this is an exception.**

 **I've been asked both why Harry is so powerful? And why he isn't more powerful.**

 **I understand both concerns. What I didn't realize until I started writing was just how daunting of a task this concern really is. The goal of this type of story is for Harry, a child, to defeat a powerful Dark Lord. It's not believable on it's own, so you have to make him a prodigy. At the same time, if he becomes too powerful, the story is really boring.**

 **I'm anticipating that people aren't going to like how much legilimency was used in this chapter. Don't worry, only Terry and Daphne are capable of it (among students that we know of), and it's not a major point.**

 **Finally; the pacing will slow down after this chapter. I've FINALLY gotten to the plot points I've been interested in writing.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP**

" _Harry!"_ The headmasters voice cut through the crowd like a knife, grabbing his attention immediately.

"Headmaster Dumbledore." He responded respectfully.

Sirius and Septima took their turn greeting the ancient wizard, before he returned his attention to him.

"I know right now probably isn't the best time." He started, gesturing to the crowd of mourning witches and wizards. "But I wished to congratulate you on your impressive dueling title."

Harry smiled sadly. _'Flitwick encouraged me to try out for the team in the first place.'_

"Thank you, sir; Filius taught me a lot of what I know."

Albus Dumbledore smiled sadly; "between him, young Miss Tonks, and Septima;" his long fingers pointed to the hazel eyed beauty and she smiled sadly; "you've become quite an impressive young wizard."

Harry flashed him a confident smile. "I work hard."

Approval shined in the old man's blue eyes. "You certainly do, my boy."

"Albus;" Sirius spoke up for the first time; "Harry, Septima, and I were going to have lunch at the Sneaky Serpent in Diagon Alley, would you care to join us?"

"That sounds lovely, Sirius."

His godfather nodded his head, before turning back to him. "Do you know where we're going, Harry?"

He nodded before disappearing with a loud _'pop.'_

"He sure is full of surprises." Albus said with a smile.

Septima smiled back. "You have no idea."

The restaurant was _busy_ he thought to himself as he took in the hustle and bustle.

"We have about a 45-minute wait, sir." The hostess said politely without looking up.

Dumbledore responded. "That's quite alright, Miss Clearwater."

His housemate looked up from whatever she had been looking at with wide eyes.

"Headmaster!" She said with a gasp, before taking in the rest of the group. "Professor Vector, Harry." She took a quick look around, offering them all a cute smile; "follow me."

The 'Sneaky Serpent' was a modestly decorated restaurant across from Memorial Park in Diagon Alley.

While not as casual as Hogsmeade or The Leaky Cauldron, the 'Sneaky Serpent' catered to the wizarding world's upper-middle class.

The foursome took their seats, and Harry noticed that their tables lantern contained a glowing, yellow pixie.

Septima was the first to break the silence. "So, how's the investigation into Filius's death going?" The brunette asked, concern in her voice.

Dumbledore offered no visible reaction but let out a soft sigh. "Slow. Whoever poisoned Filius covered their tracks well."

"He was murdered then?" Harry interrupted, earning him a stern look from Sirius.

"Sorry for the interruption." He offered sincerely, earning him a look of approval.

The headmaster frowned. "It would appear that way, Harry, yes."

"Was Snape able to identify the poison?" Sirius asked with curiosity.

Albus frowned again. "We are still looking into it." Harry caught the slight warning in his headmaster's voice.

Dumbledore then offered his runes professor a bright smile.

"Septima, I know this may not be the most appropriate time, but Ravenclaw does need a new Head of House, I was hoping you could fill the vacancy?"

She offered Dumbledore a bright smile. "Of course I would, headmaster." Her tone turned more somber. "I always hoped for this day, I just thought it would come under better circumstances."

He saw his godfather squeeze the younger woman's hand softly, and she shot him a grateful smile.

"Of course, my dear, but time is of the essence."

Septima nodded her head in agreement.

The conversation turned to lighter topics after that, and Harry lost himself in thought. Thinking about the project on vampires he was working on for Remus.

"Nymphadora has accepted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

Dumbledore's words snapped him from his thoughts, and he almost interrupted the conversation for a second time.

Waiting for an opening, Harry jumped in, "Tonks is our new defense professor, sir?" He said, excitement clear in his voice.

The young metamorph was bright, charming, and incredibly talented, winning her first dueling tournament not even a month prior.

"She's going to be amazing!" Harry gushed.

"Harry has a crush on my cousin." Sirius informed the headmaster.

He felt his cheeks redden, but before he could respond, Septima was talking.

"Does Daphne know that?"

Harry buried his head in his hands.

"You and Miss Greengrass would make quite the pair." His headmaster said in approval, and the table erupted in laughter.

* * *

The quaffle slipped through his fingers and started to rocket towards the ground.

Ignoring his fears, Harry turned his Nimbus 2001 in a sharp dive, letting out a _'whoop'_ of joy as the air hit his face causing his eyes to water.

A few meters before the ground he grabbed the quaffle out of mid-air, pulling his broomstick upwards as he did so.

"Nice catch, Harry!" His godfather yelled from the opposite end of the quidditch pitch at Memorial park. "Maybe you should try out for seeker!"

He grinned. He was quickly growing to enjoy the sport but didn't want to make that type of commitment to _another_ extracurricular activity.

"I need to concentrate on defending my title!" Harry yelled back, sending the quaffle wide-left of Sirius.

The lanky black-haired man crashed into the charmed ground trying to catch his errant throw, bouncing a good 5 meters in the air, letting out a cry of joy as he did so.

Flying closer to the ground, Harry jumped off his broom, joining Sirius on the ground.

"Let's grab some food!" The dog animagus cried out.

It was the last week of June and Harry had decided he needed a break from training, a break Sirius endorsed wholeheartedly.

The pair each grabbed some fish and chips from a cart and made their way to a table overlooking a beautiful fountain of Achelois.

Harry cast a quick _'muffliato'_ on their table, and they both took a few minutes to eat, enjoying the hot sun.

"How's the silent casting coming?" His godfather asked in curiosity.

Harry frowned, that particular project wasn't going as well as he would have liked.

"Not as well as spell deflection with Tonks."

Sirius smiled, but went into lecture mode. "Try practicing doing the spells while mouthing the incantation silently, it helped your mother out when she was trying to learn silent casting before sixth year."

He nodded his head. _'I hadn't thought of that.'_

"Have you reached out to Terry yet?" Sirius asked.

In the past couple of weeks Harry, at the urging of Sirius and Lily, had considered reaching out to the boy to try and mend their friendship.

The truth was, he missed his friend. Without Terry, he had nobody to talk to within his own house. But Terry had used legilimency on him at least once.

"Remus has been getting the Wolfsbane potion from Melissa, I don't see why I need to talk to her son."

Sirius frowned. "You need friends, Harry."

He sighed. "If he reaches out to me, maybe we can work something out."

Sirius nodded his head. "Don't let it go on too long, Harry. You'll regret it in the end."

They finished their meal in silence before taking a walk around the park.

"Tonks will be dueling in the London Invitational next month."

Harry's face brightened at the news. "That's fantastic!"

With her title in Bucharest last week, her second this season, Nymphadora Tonks was officially considered England's next great duelist.

"It's the second week of July, I assume you want to go?" It was more a statement then a question, and Harry nodded his head eagerly.

"Of course!"

They cycled through topics for the next quarter hour before heading towards the apparition point.

"Have you thought of what you would like to do for your birthday, Harry?"

The truth is, he hadn't. With the Dursleys his birthday had never been a cause for celebration.

"No; no grand party, but a surprise would be okay."

Sirius smiled maniacally at his godson's statement and he wondered if he had made a mistake.

"Sirius?" The pale man just gave him a look.

"Can I have lunch with Lily and Daphne the first week of August?"

Sirius flashed him a smile; "of course Harry. You can visit with your friends anytime you want, just let me know where you're going first." He paused for a second. "Your friends are welcome over whenever you want as well, they can use the floo."

"Are...are you being serious?" His godfather smiled. "Of course! You're a kid, Harry. Believe it or not most kids don't spend their summers studying magic eight hours a day."

He shot his godfather a sheepish grin. "I like magic."

"And there's nothing wrong with that." Sirius said with pride. "But don't be afraid to live a little as well."

A fond smile came across his face. "Your dad and I once broke into Hogwarts, for merlin's sake. Did I ever tell you that?"

He smiled as his godfather launched into a story that involved Sirius, his father, the Bloody Baron, and a herd of centaurs.

* * *

"Minister Nott."

Octavius Nott took his beady eyes off the proposal in front of him and glanced towards the plump redhead in front of him.

"Yes Angela?"

"Barty Crouch is here to see you."

Octavius kept the fear off his face; "send him in."

The Minister of Magic poured himself a glass of firewhiskey, taking a large sip nervously.

"Minister, I was hoping I could get a minute of your time to talk about the Triwizard Tournament."

Nott offered the middle-aged wizard a slight smile. "Of course, Bartemius. Can I pour you a drink?" He offered.

Shutting the door to his office, Octavius Nott cast every privacy spell he knew.

"I'm impressed, Octavius."

The voice sounded like Bartemius Crouch, but the pathology favored one of his lord.

"My Lord, how can I serve you?"

Crouch eyed him with a casual danger, twirling his wand in his short, stubby fingers.

"I have been unable to contact Lucius and wish to hear where we stand."

Nott took a calming breath. "Lucius has Francis DuPont under his thumb, and I'm told from both him and Bellatrix that Dolohov recently placed Minister Dimitar under the imperius as well. Marcel DuPont should be in position to strike within a few months, as well."

Crouch nodded in approval. "I assume we are on track for the Tournament?"

"Of course, my lord."

Nott let his master think in silence.

"Flitwick is dead." Crouch stated.

"The result of Bellatrix's spy." Nott confirmed.

"Who will be replacing him?" His lord asked.

"Daniel Avery will be the new Charms Professor, while Septima Vector will take over as head of Ravenclaw."

Crouch nodded his head in approval when he heard Avery's name. "And what of the Defense Against the Dark Arts opening, do we control that as well?"

Nott frowned. "Dumbledore has filled the position with Bellatrix's niece, Nymphadora Tonks."

Crouch gave him a look of amusement. "Bella cannot like that."

He smiled; "her niece is quite the duelist."

The Dark Lord smiled cruelly. "I hope to kill her someday soon."

Nott offered his lord a cruel smile; "I look forward to the day, my lord."

And with that, Bartemius Crouch left the Minister of Magics office.

* * *

"This bitch isn't messing around." His godfather mumbled from next to him.

From their box at the London Invitational they were watching two Italian witches duke it out for the chance to fight Tonks in the finals; winning a third duel in as many months would vault his coach into the top 3 in the world.

Harry had to agree with his godfather, though, as the dark-haired witch used a dark flame whip to sever her opponents hand from her wrist.

"Is that allowed?" He asked in curiosity.

Sirius's eyes didn't leave the duel in front of him as the now one-handed witch was struggling to continue with her want in her left hand.

"Limbs can be regrown. It's legal, though frowned upon."

The one-handed witch stepped out of her circle, forfeiting her match.

The crowd groaned and began to boo at her cowardice.

"Come on!" Sirius said, pulling at his sleeve. "Let's go grab some ice cream!" The man-child began to pull him towards the door.

' _Do dementors cause arrested development?'_ He thought to himself, as they exited the suite.

"Sirius?" The older man stopped and looked at him. "Where are we going in August?"

For the last few weeks the older man and Remus had been dropping hints about an upcoming vacation; the suspense had been driving him mad.

His godfather smiled. "That's for me to know, and you to find out." He said in a sing-song voice.

They talked amongst themselves for a while longer as he enjoyed a cone of mint chocolate chip.

"Sirius!" A gruff voice from behind him roared.

He turned around, standing behind him was the ugliest man he had ever seen; covered in scars, with one leg and one eye, his looks made his appearance rather intimidating.

"Alastor!" Turning to him, he added; "Alastor Moody, meet my godson, Harry Potter."

His glass eye spun in its socket, appraising him.

Using his occlumency, Harry kept his face blank, poking his wand forward slightly out of his wrist holster so it was aimed at the intimidating man from underneath his robes, just in case.

Moody noticed his wand and gave him a wicked grin.

"Good instincts boy! Constant vigilance!"

"Old Mad-Eye is the best Auror this country has ever seen!" Sirius added for Harry's benefit.

"And Sirius was a fine Auror himself!" Moody added.

Harry offered them a cautious smile, still not comfortable around the heavily-scarred man.

"You should see him duel, Mad-Eye." His godfather said proudly, pointing to Harry; "Tonks has been training him for the last couple of summers, he won the Hogwarts title for years 3-5 this past year."

Mad-Eye eyed him with curiosity. "I'd like to see for myself, sometime."

"Of course, anytime." His godfather said casually.

Moody leaned in close and said something only Sirius could hear.

"Of course, Mad Eye, I'll be in touch."

Harry lost interest, because about ten meters in front of him was an athletically built girl with familiar long, blonde hair.

With a smile he caught her eye; "Daphne!" He said with a slight shout.

From next to him he saw his godfather smile, and Harry noticed the stern looking blonde man she was with.

" _Introduce yourself properly when meeting a Lord, Harry. A lot of them are pretty obnoxious and demand respect."_ He remembered Sirius's lesson from the year prior.

"Lord Greengrass." He introduced himself with a slight bow. "I'm Harry Potter, of House Potter."

The older man gave him a calculating look with his sharp blue eyes.

From next to him he noticed his daughter's annoyance.

The older man must have noticed it as well; "Alfred Greengrass, Heir Potter, Lord Black." He said to each of them with a nod.

Sirius smiled. "Enough of the formalities;" his godfather said, after introducing himself properly to Daphne's dad.

"Are the two of you enjoying the duels?" Lord Black asked.

Alfred deferred to his daughter.

Daphne introduced herself with a polite curtsey and Harry found himself staring at the green-eyed beauty in front of him.

' _Puberty has done wonders for her.'_ He thought to himself.

"Very much so, Lord Black." Harry noticed something akin to approval flash across her father's face at her polite tone.

"I have particularly enjoyed your cousin's performance, Lord Black."

Harry grinned internally; _'I've never seen her act so formal.'_

Sirius smiled in agreement. "She's very good."

"She has a very distinct style." Daphne continued, giving him a quick glance. "It's very similar to my own."

"And Harry's." Sirius agreed.

Alfred raised an eyebrow at this. "I'd love to see the two of you duel sometime, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded eagerly. "We have a dueling pit at our place, the two of you are welcome anytime."

Sirius nodded in agreement before adding; "would the two of you like to join us in our booth for the final match?"

Daphne looked to her father who appeared to give her a slight nod, and Daphne accepted on behalf of the pair.

"Banderas isn't going to last if she can't keep up with Tonks." Daphne commented as the final hit the minute mark.

Harry turned slightly to face her, his arm brushing hers, he could smell the mint on her breath and the raspberry in her light-blonde hair.

' _When did we get so close?'_ He wondered idly, making no effort to back away.

"Tonks is what I want to become." Harry added.

She offered him a brilliant smile, one that showed her comfort - the type of carefree smile he didn't see at Hogwarts.

She grabbed his hand lightly, interweaving her fingers with his "we'll be better." She stated.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Alfred watching the two of them while he talked with Sirius.

Tonks sent several sharp, medal discs at her opponent, who dodged deftly, returning with a large wall of dark flame.

He swore he heard Tonks swear as she erected a brilliant golden shield.

The onslaught continued, and Tonks shield was beginning to show signs of cracking.

"She needs to end her shield, quickly cast a dome of water then return fire." The Slytherin commented, her hand still in his.

Sirius spoke up, and Harry frowned. "If she ends the shield, she gets hit with the spell;" he countered.

Daphne replied; "if she doesn't she loses, it's a lose-lose."

Tonks ended her shield and the fire burned part of her torso.

Instead of erecting a water dome Tonks responded with a high-level lightning spell.

"Gutsy move." Alfred said with approval as the Italian witch let out a painful yell, taking the brunt of the spell.

Tonks didn't waste her advantage, sending a barrage of a potentially lethal curse known as ' _Thor's Hammer.'_

One of the curses hit the other witch, knocking her fifty feet outside of the circle, ripping the other witch's arm from her body.

The crowd went wild at the show of violence, and Tonks was declared the victor.

Daphne turned to him again, and his heart skipped a beat as she offered him another one of those smiles. "She's absolutely brilliant!" She gushed.

Harry laughed and voiced his agreement.

Daphne's father was calling her name, and without putting much thought to it Harry put a hand on her arm making her pause for a second.

Raspberries assaulted his senses again. "Daphne;" a messy strand of blonde hair covered her face, and she offered him a pretty look. Blushing slightly, he collected himself and continued. "I'm having lunch with some friends for my birthday on the 31st, would you like to join me?"

The girl lost her usual confidence, and her gaze flickered behind him over his shoulder for a moment.

Daphne turned back his way a moment later and smiled shyly. "I'd love to." She said, before gathering him in a soft embrace.

Remembering that her father was right behind him, he was careful with his hands, placing them safely on the small of her back, trying to fight his own hormones.

They released a few seconds later and said their goodbyes; once Daphne and Alfred were a safe distance away; Sirius offered him sly smile, "are we going to have to talk about rings and quaffles, Harry?"

Harry gave his godfather a glare. "Just make sure you put a lunch together, Black."

* * *

"So, Harry, how were the duels?" She asked.

It was a Tuesday in mid-July, and Septima and her student were currently sitting in his room, preparing for their occlumency lesson.

She had learned occlumency from her mother at a very young age and had found that beginners performed best in a comfortable environment. That meant sitting amongst several photographs with friends, a messy desk, and a neatly organized bookshelf.

"Brilliant!" He responded with a bright smile, causing her to return the favor.

She stopped him before he could continue. "Don't tell me anymore, Harry." Septima said with a laugh. "Tonight, I'm going to try and steal it from your mind, let me know when you're ready."

The soon-to-be fourteen-year-old gave her a determined nod. _'The boy has many talents, occlumency is not one of them.'_

The boy was better than average but would never be able to keep some of the more advanced legilimens out of his mind if they really wanted.

' _Legilimens.'_ She cast silently.

She was met with a thick, black fog. _'That's new.'_ She thought with approval.

Septima tried to navigate through the fog but was lost.

A half a minute later she had found a small gap in the fog, walking through, she appeared in the familiar memory of Harry at the beach in Dover.

She felt his effort increase, his will trying to force her from his mind. _'He's getting better.'_ She noted.

Pushing a little harder, the teacher overcame the student, directing her way to a star in the sky, bursting through and into his mind.

She was immediately overcome with a barrage of memories and focused specifically on the Invitational. Snips of a memory began to take focus; slowing down she began to watch, gently pushing away her student's meager efforts as the memory unfolded a conversation between Sirius, Alastor Moody, and Harry play out before her eyes, and she smiled.

Septima lessened her effort a bit, allowing Harry to push her out of his mind.

"Good work Harry." She said with a large smile. "Let's take a break and get back to work."

An hour later the pair were drinking butterbeer in the kitchen.

"Do you know what Sirius has planned for your birthday yet?" Septima asked, before quickly adding. "You want your first date with Daphne to be impressive."

The boy's cheeks reddened, and she gave him a soft smile.

' _Hopefully he starts to see me as an older cousin, like he does Tonks. I can't be thought of his professor when Sirius and I get married.'_

"Are you two going to continue working on your room next year?"

The green-eyed teen smiled; "yes, there were some wards I was hoping you could show me before school starts up?"

"Or course, Harry." Having a student as eager as Harry Potter made teaching fun.

"Chatting up my girl?" Sirius interrupted her thoughts, ruffling Harry's hair.

She gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. "Be careful, love." Septima said with a smile. "Or he may steal me away."

She let her boyfriend stew on that as she said goodbye to Harry and grabbed her coat.

* * *

Harry twirled his wand, conjuring a flock of sparrows to intercept his opponent's multiple stunners.

"Good job Harry!" Tonks shouted from across the pit.

His new defense professor had shrunk the size of his circle to three feet for today's session, apparently, he needed to work on his deflection and his shields.

"Cannoventus." He said with a whisper, conjuring a thick screen of dark smoke.

He immediately followed up with a trio of silent stunners, hoping to catch the champion duelist off-guard.

"You're going to have to do better than that, Harry!" Tonks said in a sing-song voice.

' _Shit.'_ He thought, bringing up a golden dome at the last second to absorb the violent looking spell.

"Ruo Flagram." He whispered; a thick, dark purple flame erupting from his wand.

Tonks' eyes widened at his casual use of the dark arts, and a wicked grin appeared on her face.

He directed the flame whip at his opponent, burning the older witch's arm severely.

He didn't stop to see the effects, following up with several cutters.

Tonks pirouetted gracefully, somehow managing to heal her arm in the process.

" _Very_ impressive, Harry."

She said, throwing a handful of curses his way, he deflected the first few with ease, but the last spell would be painful.

Not risking it, he grunted, conjuring a brick wall to absorb a black spell that he knew would remove his kidney, _violently._

' _Kid gloves are off.'_

He smiled despite the danger, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"Ardere Sagitto, Debiles Fulmen, Glacius Duo!" He shot off in quick succession.

Tonks grin was maniacal as she took an arrow in her shoulder to avoid the bolt of lightning.

Blood seeped through her platinum robes. If anything, the blood-stained robes made her look _hot._

Tonks responded with an entrails expelling curse, forcing him to duck.

He howled in pain as Tonks' bone breaker connected with his right leg, causing him to stumble out of the circle.

The older witch healed herself and made her way towards her student.

"Heal yourself." She directed.

Harry grunted in acknowledgement, grinding his teeth in pain, straightening his right leg. "Episkey." He got out, hitting his leg perfectly with the spell.

He felt his leg knit itself back together painfully.

Standing up, he walked around gingerly.

"How does it feel?" Tonks asked.

He smiled. "Pretty good."

"Where did you learn those spells?" There was no accusation in her voice, just curiosity.

"The Black Library has some incredibly interesting books." He replied casually. _'So did Tom Riddle.'_ He added to himself.

"Keep it up, you've improved greatly." She said with a smile. "Sirius told me Mad-Eye wants to duel you."

He nodded. "Yeah, we met at your tournament." He smiled, remembering that day fondly.

"Get out your wand, Harry." Tonks snapped, all business-like.

' _She must be practicing her professor voice.'_

"Your shields and deflection are improving, Harry. But your battle transfiguration needs some work."

He frowned.

"But I can help you." She said with a smile.

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon getting a crash course in battle transfiguration from one of the best duelers in the world.

' _Life is good.'_ He thought to himself.

* * *

"Watch it!" He let out as the witch poked him with her wand a third time.

"Harry." Sirius said, a touch of warning in his voice. "This is for your benefit, be polite."

The pair were paying a visit to Madam Malkins, and outside of the normal school robes, Sirius had insisted that Harry get an "appropriate" wardrobe.

The process had been quite annoying.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, be still, we are almost finished." The gray-haired witch replied with a touch of irritation.

Ten minutes later the pair were leaving the robe shop. "I thought my letter said I needed dress robes?" He questioned with a touch of confusion.

"They did." Sirius confirmed. "There's a ball to go along with the tournament."

He nodded his head at the mention of the international tournament set to take place at Hogwarts this coming year - excited to have the opportunity to interact with the international students.

"But you don't want to purchase your robes before finding out what your date will be wearing." His godfather lectured. "It's important to ask your date what color she will be wearing so that your robes will match her dress."

Harry just nodded. Used to his impromptu lessons on society.

"Now would be a good time to mention that I have arranged for you to receive dancing and etiquette lessons with an old acquaintance of mine."

He squirmed at the thought of dancing.

Sirius saw his face and rolled his eyes.

"Don't give me that look, Harry!" He admonished. "You'll thank me anytime you have to appear in a formal setting, trust me." Sirius seemed to be amused by his own words.

The two turned into the trunk store, and Harry immediately made his way to the shopkeeper.

"Remind me why you need a new trunk, Harry?"

' _Because I fucked up the ward on my old trunk, now every time I touch it I get a migraine.'_

"Because I'm keen on starting my own library, and my current trunk lacks the space." He said with a smile.

The dog animagus groaned; "you always have a book in your hand, don't you already have a library?"

Harry frowned; "I have about a dozen books that aren't for school, all gifts. The rest come from either the Hogwarts or Black libraries. I'd like to start my own collection."

With the help of the shopkeeper, Harry decided on a nice two compartment trunk, and an hour later, the pair were standing in 'Flourish and Blotts.'

"Dammit Sirius!" He frowned, rubbing his ribs where his godfather had just elbowed him.

Harry followed Sirius's gaze, making eye contact with a set of familiar hazel eyes.

The other boy glanced towards the corner causing Harry to sigh; "Sirius, I'll be right back."

His black dragonhide boots echoed off the wooden floor as he made his way over to a vacant corner where Boot stood.

' _He seems nervous.'_ He grinned to himself.

"How've you been, Harry?" His former friend started with a slight stammer.

"What do you want, Boot?" His response came out harsher than he meant, and the other boy flinched, but didn't turn away.

"I deserve that." Terry said softly, never breaking eye contact. Harry could feel the sincerity in his voice and he relaxed a bit.

Foregoing the awkward apology, Harry cut to the chase. "How can I ever trust you again, Terry."

The brown-haired boy shrugged; "you can't. Not yet at least."

The admission shocked Harry more than he let on.

"I've always been good at legilimency, it's become sort of a habit to gleam people's surface thoughts."

Harry thought silently for a moment, letting a small smile come to his face; "go on then, do your best on me."

Terry looked shocked. "Are… are you sure?"

He just nodded, waiting for him to begin.

"When you're ready."

Terry let out a wicked smile. "I've already read your surface thoughts, Harry; I'm interested to see your old trunk."

Harry was somewhat shocked. "You're better than I thought, I didn't even notice you."

Terry just nodded. "You're not too bad yourself, that's as far back as I was able to reach in without disturbing your defenses, not too bad."

"How many times have you down that to me?" Harry asked.

Terry caught his eyes; "not much since first year." Again, Harry sensed honesty in his response.

He nodded. "I need you to make it up to me."

Terry nodded eagerly.

"When we get back to Hogwarts, I want you to watch Malfoy and Nott."

The other boy agreed. "Of course."

"I also want you to write down everything you know about the two of them and their families."

Terry frowned. He knew his friend didn't believe Voldemort would be back; still, he consented without any issue.

Harry offered him another smile. "Finally," Terry groaned, but Harry ignored him, "I need you to meet Daphne, Lily, Sirius, and I for lunch for my birthday."

Terry smiled. "Deal. Owl me the details."

With that the two boys parted.

* * *

The Black Library contained the largest private collection of Dark Arts books in the world.

At least that's what the portrait of Arcturus Black had told him when he'd found the massive library earlier in the summer.

The library was quite impressive; and what it lacked in charm, it more than made up for in knowledge.

Harry had spent quite a bit of time here since the beginning of the summer; taking notes in his journal, then practicing what he had read in the dueling pits.

The entire process had been exhausting, but well worth his efforts.

When he had told Daphne what he was doing she had been eager to join him, and he looked forward to giving her the chance sometime in August.

Right now, he was reading about a rune grouping that, when carved and charged, would cause a wide-area explosion, like a muggle bomb.

To him, the most surprising thing about the rune grouping was its _simplicity._ He recognized all the runes necessary to make many of the groupings work, and with a little bit of effort he was positive that he could replicate the effects.

And that scared him. If a talented soon-to-be fourteen-year-old could make a massive explosion that could theoretically kill _hundreds_ of people - imagine what else was out there?

Magic, he had noticed, didn't need to be difficult to be exceptionally dangerous.

* * *

Dimly lit and eerily quiet, the circular room gave him the creeps.

"Seven wizards, Lorenz. You bring me seven, unharmed wizards and I will provide your clan with the loan."

Lucius stuck to the shadows nervously; distancing himself as much as he could from the ancient Italian Vampire and the neurotic necromancer, acutely aware that between Lorenz Macaro's bodyguards, and Marcel DuPont's disciples he was vastly outnumbered.

"Very well, Monsieur DuPont. We have a deal."

The vampire turned on his heels to leave, when DuPont stopped him.

"Lorenz!" The ancient man glanced over his shoulder towards the French wizard. "I want you to drain them in front of me and answer any questions I may have."

The clan leader frowned but didn't disagree. Instead he offered the man a nearly imperceptible nod.

DuPont scratched something on a piece of parchment, before surprising him.

"What can I do for you, Lucius Malfoy?"

The blonde-haired man stepped out of the shadows.

"It's good to see you again, Marcel."

"Please don't waste my time, Lucius, I have a busy schedule to keep."

He frowned. _'As if I want to be here longer than necessary.'_

Eager to get out of the chateau, Malfoy didn't mince words. "We need you to control the dementors again, Marcel."

Marcel gave him a wicked smile, and the younger man shuddered. He had never felt comfortable around his father's old friend.

The necromancer appraised him for a few moments.

"You are a clone of Abraxas." Marcel added with a touch of sadness.

His father's murder nearly sixteen years ago remained one of the wizarding world's greatest mysteries, and his family's greatest embarrassment.

DuPont looked back up at him. "25 muggles. That is your price."

Lucius smiled. Allowing the men to round up a couple dozen muggles was sure to raise spirits. Rabastan had been looking for an excuse to leave Malfoy Manor.

"You have a deal."

* * *

Alastor Moody waved his wand intricately as the dueling pit in front of him transformed into a warzone riddled with debris.

"Dueling is boring, Potter!" He snapped.

Moody was excited. Nymphadora Tonks and Albus Dumbledore seemed to think the boy was special, and at Albus' encouragement, here he was.

The boy's emerald eyes lacked the wonder he would have expected after seeing such a display; instead the child took stock of his surroundings, dipping into a distinctive crouch, minimizing himself as a target, ready to attack at a moment's notice.

Without warning, Moody sent a pair of silent stunners at the boy.

Potter dodged to his left, returning fire with a trio of silent cutters, before disappearing for a momentarily.

' _Damn he's fast!'_ Harry thought with a smile as he ducked behind a brick wall, casting a disillusionment charm on himself, and transfiguring some debris into a brown bear, sending it towards his opponent.

"Nice work Potter!" His opponent yelled back. "But you can't hide from me!"

His bear exploded in a show of gore.

He was on the defensive immediately, deflecting several bone-breakers.

Harry responded with back to back wide-area stunners, forcing the old man to shield, using the time to try a spell he had read about that afternoon; _"Ignem Aestifer!"_ He bellowed.

A hateful array of orange-black flame spat out of his wand, forcing Mad-Eye to apparate.

"Fighting to kill are ya boy!" A voice from behind him barked.

' _Shit'_ he thought to himself, taking a bone breaker to the chest. ' _I didn't know the apparition wards were down!'_

He growled in pain as he felt several ribs break.

Moody was in front of him again in an instant.

"Make sure you know what the spell you're using is capable of!" Moody yelled.

Harry applied a quick numbing charm to his chest and conjured a brick wall hoping to buy a few seconds of time.

"You need to get more creative with the spells you already know, Potter! Not try new ones!"

His eyes widened in surprise as he took a stunner to his chest.

"Where did you learn that fire spell, boy!" He barked at the child in front of him.

He wasn't mad, more curious, that spell could be exceptionally dangerous, and wasn't common knowledge.

Potter looked nervous, but he met his eyes.

Moody reached out softly, meeting decent occlumency shields. _'The boy really is impressive.'_

"The Black Library."

Alastor nodded - the Black family had always had an affinity for the dark arts.

"You need to practice it more before using it in a friendly battle."

Potter gave him a sharp nod. "Next time I'll be better, sir."

Potters confidence caused him to grin. "For now, I want to work on your magical control."

He had the boy's attention, now. "I beat you because you thought you were safe behind a wall. With enough practice, your enemy is never safe."

Potter had a determined look on his face. "What do I need to do?"

He let out a vicious smile. "When you cast a 'lumos,' what color is it?"

"A glowing white light." Harry answered automatically.

He nodded. "Why."

He could tell he had confused the boy. "Why isn't it a red light?"

"I - I don't know?"

Moody nodded. "There is no reason, the light can be any color you want it to be, but your mind automatically associates a light as white."

His student looked shocked, as though what he had just told him was the most obvious thing in the world.

Moody smiled. "You have a decent understanding of occlumency, boy!" He snapped. "Cast lumos and visualize the light as a dark red color!"

Potter gave him a determined nod and set to work.

* * *

"Rupert!" Lily nearly shouted as the black-haired girl leapt from her chair, forgetting her banana split.

Sirius turned to Tonks. "Ugh-oh cousin, looks like you have some competition."

The rest of the table laughed as his friend blushed.

Rupert Macnair gave the girl a tight hug. "Lily! I haven't seen you in so long!"

She frowned. "That's your fault."

He offered her another smile. "The Auror Academy has kept me busy."

Macnair went over and offered his girlfriend a soft kiss, plopping down on her lap.

"Get off me you oaf!" Tonks responded, jabbing him in the ribs with her wand.

Macnair ignored her and turned to him.

"Happy birthday, Harry. Sorry I missed lunch."

He smiled softly at the older boy; "no problem Rupert, glad you could make it."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world." He said with a predatory smile.

Next to him Daphne eyed the older boy with interest, while Terry looked slightly nervous.

He turned to Sirius, and with a look, his godfather finished his milkshake and called attention to himself.

"Alright, everyone, grab the rope." He said, producing a rope from his robes.

A second later the group disappeared, only to reappear in a field littered with magically placed trees, walls, and an unnatural looking river, a moment later.

"Where are we?" Septima asked in confusion.

"On a property owned by Sirius's family." Remus replied in amusement. "The same one, if I recall, where you left James stranded after the incident with Marlene."

His godfather smiled fondly, while Daphne gave him a strange look.

"It's better if you don't ask." He whispered.

Regaining his focus, Sirius called attention to the group.

"This afternoon, we're going to play a game."

Harry eyed his godfather in curiosity.

"We will be playing a game I've adapted from the muggles; paintball."

He noticed Daphne, Lily, Rupert, and to a lesser extent Septima sneer at the mention of adapting a muggle game, but Harry was interested.

"The goal is to eliminate the other team. It's like a battle, but we shoot pain instead of spells, and when you get hit with the paint, you're eliminated."

The simple explanation caught the rest of the groups interest.

"For the first contest, I thought we would do kids versus adults?"

Harry looked at his team and smiled; this was by far the best birthday he had ever had.

"Terry, Lily, I want you two to stick together, watch each other's backs and cause distractions, move slowly up the middle; Daphne;" he smiled at the girl in question; "and I will flank them from either side.

The group split up, with Harry casting a disillusionment charm on himself before silencing his boots, while Daphne did the same from to his right.

He saw Lily cast several illusion charms while Terry filled the area with a thick, dark smoke.

' _Maybe I was wrong to be the hunter.'_ He thought. _'They get to use more magic._ '

Harry crept forward silently, taking cover behind a tree.

He glimpsed to his right and saw Remus moving towards Terry.

' _Got him.'_ He smiled, silently sending several balls of dark blue paint towards the werewolf.

"Dammit!" His opponent yelled, getting hit with several pellets and stomping towards the exterior as he glanced around, trying to determine who had shot him.

Harry was shaken from his revelry by Lily's elimination a half-second later a few meters behind him.

He continued to push forward, looking for any sign of his opponent, but saw nothing.

" _Hominem Revelio."_ He said softly, seeing the air to his far right begin to glow.

"Harry I could use some help over here!" He heard a familiar voice yell towards where he now knew several opponents to be.

Still under his disillusionment charm, he sprinted towards the creek and a wall near the center of the arena where Daphne was holed up.

Pellets of paint littered the area as Sirius and Septima had Daphne surrounded.

At that moment a third attacker started peppering the teenagers.

"Macnair must've got Boot!" Daphne yelled, dodging some more paint.

"No shit!" He responded, taking the older boy out quickly. _'I remember him being so much more competent.'_ He thought to himself.

A second later, Daphne dispatched of Sirius, and Tonks made her presence known.

"Seriously cousin, leaving the women to handle the kids!" The metamorph shouted out causing Septima to laugh as she took Daphne out with several pellets of paint.

The two rounded on him, and Harry fired as fast as he could while diving and ducking behind anything he could use as a shield.

"Nice use of your surroundings, Harry!" Tonks encouraged him, as if they were back at Grimmauld Place.

"But you're still too slow!"

As she gloated, Harry surprised himself by hitting Tonks with a gob of dark blue paint.

"Finally!" He yelled as he dove again, narrowly avoiding Septima's barrage of paint.

' _She's faster than she looks.'_ Harry re-doubled his concentration, dodging again before returning fire.

They exchanged fire for a few moments longer before Septima grazed his leg.

He sighed in defeat, offering his opponent an annoyed smile.

"Loser!" Sirius proclaimed immediately, jumping over towards him and breaking into a victory dance.

"Double or nothing!" Harry shouted back with a grin, hoping to spend the rest of his afternoon doing exactly this.

* * *

She hopped to the right, avoiding the incoming cutting curse, returning with several bone breakers of her own.

Daphne watched as her opponent batted away the three bone breakers with ease, returning fire with a concussion hex.

' _He's better than me.'_ She realized with a hint of bitterness.

The blonde girl ducked the concussion hex, and follow-up trauma curse before transfiguring a chunk of brick in front of her into a coyote.

Harry dealt with the coyote with ease, and she smiled as she watched the cutter she had slipped in hit her opponent in the abdomen, causing him to growl in pain.

Harry was livid, and she was on the defensive a moment later; _'maybe that wasn't smart?'_ She thought; dodging some arrows deftly, only to be attacked by a swarm of bees a moment later.

She growled in pain as the annoying insects stung her - choosing to unleash a wide-area stunner instead of immediately dispatching of the pests.

Seeing Potter throw up a shield, she quickly dealt with the bees as she felt her face begin to swell.

Switching strategies, she sent a quick barrage of tripping jinxes, stunners and piercing curses, hoping to keep him on the defensive long enough to slip past his defensives.

Potter smiled at her as he dodged and batted away her spells with ease, causing her to growl in frustration.

"Debiles Fulmen!" She shouted, worked up over the boy's taunts, she hoped to get the introductory lightning spell to work properly.

To her delight, a jet of lightning struck Harry's circle, causing him to shield.

"Not bad, Greengrass!"

' _Was that amusement?'_ She thought with disgust. _'Is he toying with me?'_

"Debiles Fulmen!" Potter replied calmly.

While her bolt of lightning had been uncontrolled and relatively weak, Harry's was precise and strong, shattering her shields and crashing into her body she felt electricity course through her causing her to scream in pain.

The pain was gone a second later, and Harry and her father were running towards her with concern on their face.

"I'm fine!" She yelled, standing up and offering her father a smile, causing him to visibly relax. Knowing that her father trusted her and didn't baby her pleased Daphne to no end.

"Very precise, Harry."

She said to the still concerned boy.

She smiled inwardly at his obvious concern.

Her father turned towards Harry for the first time as she watched Alfred's reaction to the Ravenclaw carefully.

His dark eyes seemed to trail over Harry's features, and the dueling pit at Grimmauld Place was silent.

"You are an impressive duelist, Mr. Potter." Her father said, offering him a slight smile, causing her to let go of a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"Thank you, Lord Greengrass."

Her father offered him another smile. "You may call me Alfred, Mr. Potter."

She saw the slightest bit of trepidation cross Harry's face, but he recovered quickly, offering her father a charming smile; "than you must call me Harry, Alfred."

From the corner of her eye she noticed Sirius and Nymphadora Tonks try and stifle their laughter.

"Why don't you two go grab lunch in the alley, Harry." Sirius Black spoke up. "I'd like to talk to Alfred about a few things."

Harry smiled nervously, but she grabbed his hand, dragging him upstairs towards the floo.

The 'Sneaky Serpent' was much quieter on a Tuesday afternoon. He noticed absentmindedly, as Daphne let go of his hand to take her seat.

They sat silently for a few moments as he debated with himself internally.

Daphne must have noticed his indecision; "what is it, Harry?" She asked. Her pretty face giving him a questioning look.

He took a second to gather himself; "why did you hug me at the tournament? Or grab my hand today in front of your father?"

She blushed prettily, briefly glancing down at her glass of water before looking him in the eyes.

"Did it bother you?"

He gave her a shy smile. "Of course not! It was just awkward with your father right there."

She chuckled softly and waved him off. "I was just killing two birds with one stone."

At his questioning look, she continued.

"While marriage contracts haven't been used in hundreds of years, my family is still rather traditional, and he would have to approve of anyone I, um…" Her face reddened again, but her eyes didn't leave his. "Dated." She ended.

Harry gave her a curious look. And she continued nervously; "by expressing interest in front of my father I was able to judge his reaction, when I got his approval, it made things easier should we go on more dates in the future."

He offered her a look of shock. _'More dates?'_

Then he thought about his current situation; he was having lunch with a pretty witch that he was interested in. _'I guess it is a date.'_

They chatted idly as he paid the bill forty-five minutes later.

Harry reached out and grabbed her hand as they headed out into an unusually cool August afternoon.

"Do you mind if we do some shopping?" Daphne asked, leaning her body closer into his.

"I'd like to get Astoria's birthday gift."

He smiled as he remembered the frail looking brunette he had often seen talking to Daphne over the past year. He trembled slightly as a slight breeze touched him but gave her a soft smile. "Of course."

The sky darkened slightly, and Daphne began to tremble slightly; an odd sense of Deja-vu came over him.

"Daphne…" He said, ignoring the growing voice in the back of his mind. "Use occlumency if you know it and get out your wand."

The words had almost no effect on his date, as three hooded figures came into view.

" _Not Harry! Please not Harry!"_

He heard his mother's voice echo faintly in his mind.

He was completely supporting Daphne, now, as the dementor closest to him seemed to gravitate in his direction.

Clearing his mind and waving his wand he shouted. "Expecto Patronum!"

A thick, silver stag erupted from his wand, chasing down the dementor closest to him.

Daphne started regaining control of herself, as the Alley seemed to fill with silver mist as more and more aurors appeared to deal with the remaining chaos.

"Can you floo me home, Harry?" The girl leaning into his chest said softly.

"Of course, Daphne." He responded tenderly, guiding the girl towards the 'Leaky Cauldron.'


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP**

 **A/N: This chapter earns the 'M' rating.**

Pettigrew watched with great interest from under a disillusionment charm near a dumpster.

Around him families were enjoying a slightly chilly early-August afternoon.

' _Any second now…'_ He thought to himself. The man had always felt that the calm before the storm was always oddly relaxing.

A half a minute later he saw Rookwood's signal from across the alley and started his timer.

Marcel DuPont's small contingent of dementors had arrived.

' _I wonder what Lucius had to pay to get DuPont's help with a second attack?'_ He mused.

The sunny alley began to darken as grey clouds followed the hideous creatures into the public alley.

" _He's - he's dead?" Peter's voice quivered._ The rat shivered in fear, recalling that fateful moment.

Pettigrew re-focused on his meager occlumency skills, pushing the dreaded thoughts from his mind and checked his timer.

' _Not the quickest response time.'_ He noted as the timer approached 90 seconds with no auror in site.

Thirty seconds later a half-a-dozen aurors appeared in front of Gringotts with a soft ' _pop.'_

Peter noted the response time and descriptions of the aurors he saw with diligence.

Pettigrew fought the feeling of dread forming in his stomach, before checking to make sure he had made all the proper notes.

Seeing that he had gotten what he needed, he signaled across the alley to his counterpart, preparing to leave.

' _What the hell?'_ He thought to himself, distracted by a scene deeper into the alley.

Trotting across the street towards the group of dementors was a familiar, bright silver stag.

"Prongs?" He muttered to himself; staring transfixed at the impressive patronus charm in front of him.

Pushing aside the thoughts of his old friend, Peter noted the appearance of the patronus in his journal before trying to catch site of his old friend's son.

He grinned to himself as he caught a glimpse of messy black hair leading an athletically built blonde haired girl towards 'The Leaky Cauldron.'

Pettigrew's smile grew larger at the unexpected site, and with a light ' _pop.'_ He was gone

* * *

Bellatrix burst through the doors and into the study. _'How dare that man attack without consulting me.'_

The blonde man in front of her looked up from his stack of parchment.

"Good evening, Bellatrix."

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing, Malfoy?"

She seethed. _She_ oversaw attacks, he was supposed to run things by her.

"It needed to be done."

The sense of finality in his tone would have cowed most people, but not Bellatrix Lestrange.

"You have free reign of the Wizengamot and international affairs." She started. "I oversee military operations, not _you._ "

He offered her a sneer. "I did it for _our lord,_ Bellatrix. Your opinion hardly matters."

Her hand twitched towards her wand, but Malfoy looked unconcerned.

They both knew she wouldn't touch him...yet.

"Did he tell you to run a highly visible reconnaissance mission in the middle of the bloody day?"

"That is none of your concern."

Bellatrix wanted to retort, but held her tongue, choosing to leave the den she headed back to the guest chambers and grabbed a quill and some parchment; there was something she needed done.

* * *

Albus looked around the cozy professor's lounge, idly listening to Pomona's funding requests for the upcoming year.

He smiled as the dumpy witch finished with her requests, chancing a glance at Minerva, he could tell that she was dutifully taking notes next to him.

"Thank you, Pomona. We will have an answer for you by the end of the week."

The head of Hufflepuff offered him a kind smile and he stood up to address the room.

"As you all know, with the loss of Filius," he paused, glancing at the somber faces around the room, trying to determine who the spy in the castle may be; "we need a new Head of Ravenclaw."

There was very little commotion at his proclamation, most had been expecting this.

"Although her promotion comes under tragic circumstances, it is my pleasure to announce Septima Vector as our new Head of Ravenclaw."

Applause met his declaration, and he motioned for the young witch to say a few words.

The brunette woman stood up, and the slightest smell of apricot touched his nose.

"Thank you, Headmaster." She beamed at him, and he noticed the lack of a ring on her finger.

' _That can't sit well with Septima.'_ He thought.

The woman was incredibly strong-willed, if Septima Vector wanted something, she got it.

"It is an impossible role to fill, but between myself, and Professor Avery." The ancient runes professor motioned to her new colleague in charms, and Albus eyed the young man with mistrust.

If there was a spy in the school, and he highly suspected there was, then Daniel Avery stood at the top of his list of suspects.

Forced upon him after the death of Hermione Granger, the man was an extremely capable young wizard, and if it wasn't for his family history he would have had no issue hiring him. But Malcolm and Emery Avery had been in Azkaban for a reason, and Emery remained Tom's longest active follower, one of the few people still alive who remembered Tom Riddle.

"Yes, yes, it is, Septima." He said with a sad smile. "But I know you'll do your best."

The meeting wrapped up several minutes later and he motioned for Severus to stay behind.

When they were all alone, Albus cast several privacy spells and turned to his potions professor.

"What can you tell me about last week's attack on Diagon Alley?"

During the first war, Voldemort's attacks were large, violent displays. The small dementor attack last week had thankfully injured nobody but had been uncharacteristic of the Death Eaters usual strategies.

"It was planned by Lucius Malfoy." The ornery man started. "Marcel DuPont, controlled the dementors, while Pettigrew and Rookwood observed."

Albus stroked his beard in thought. "What about Bellatrix Lestrange, what was her role?"

Severus smiled, cruelly; "she did not know of the attack, she was quite upset."

The headmaster smiled.

"What do you think the purpose of the attack was, Severus."

The spy stared blankly at him for several long moments; "If I were to guess, I would say that Pettigrew and Rookwood recorded the Ministry's response time."

The headmaster offered Severus a small smile and rubbed his beard in thought.

"I agree with that conclusion, Severus. But why would they need to with Octavius as Minister."

The master occlumens offered him a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Octavius is fond of his post. He's more than happy to help, but not in such a direct manner. If there's an attack he must respond, or risk being run out of office, he's already upset with the attack on the alley."

Albus smiled, that could play to their advantage.

"You came to me a while back suspecting that there may be a spy in Hogwarts, do you have any suspects?"

"I do not." Snape responded immediately, causing him to frown.

"What about Daniel Avery?"

Severus took a moment to compose himself. "Avery should not be overlooked…" he began cautiously. "But the information Bellatrix's spy knows isn't anything Daniel would be privy to."

"Who _would_ know that information?"

Snape's beady eyes appeared lost in thought. "I'm not sure."

Albus sighed. "We must keep looking then."

Severus nodded in agreement. "One last thing, Albus."

The old headmaster silently told him to continue. "I believe that the Quidditch World Cup will be attacked, but I'm not sure when."

"Thank you for the information, Severus."

The surly man stood up to leave, and Albus headed back to his office.

"Everlasting Gobstoppers." The statue jumped aside, and he made his way up the winding stairs, and into his office.

Making his way to his fireplace, he grabbed a pinch of floo powder, and, calling out for his old friend he stuck his head in.

The scarred man appeared before him a second later.

"What is it, Albus?" Was his gruff response.

"Gather a small group that you trust, Alastor." He said with an eerie calm. "It's time we go on the offensive."

The battle-hardened auror met his declaration with a gruesome smile.

"I'll get on it immediately, Albus."

* * *

"That one looks like a goblin!" Her sister giggled, causing her to smile.

"I don't see it, Astoria."

The brunette girl wrinkled her nose in thought.

The two sisters were laying on their backs looking at the sky, a rare respite from her increasingly intense training schedule.

' _I cannot allow Potter to beat me again.'_ She thought with a soft smile.

"Right there!" Her sister pointed towards the sky excitedly; "that one looks like a big dog!" She said with a giggle.

Daphne had to agree with her frail sister on that comparison.

In need of a pick-me-up from an otherwise terrible morning, the older Greengrass girl had decided to spend some time with the soon-to-be second year Slytherin.

Astoria Greengrass was sunshine on a rainy day; as positive as anyone she had ever met, Daphne doubted whether the small brunette had ever said an unkind word about anyone. The girl could find something nice to say about the Lestrange family, she was certain.

It was an incredible thought, considering the curse those bastards had placed on her family.

Previous ancestors that had suffered the effects of the curse had become quite bitter, but not Astoria. _'At least not yet.'_

A large eagle-owl interrupted her musings as her little sister greedily reached towards the familiar owl.

Daphne's eyes narrowed as she recognized _that_ owl all-too-well.

"What is Draco Malfoy doing writing to you?"

The Malfoy family had power, but more than that they were dangerous.

Kind hazel eyes met her own. "Draco has become a good friend recently." Her sister smiled. "I have daddy's permission, Daph, no need to worry."

' _What game is father playing?'_ She wondered.

Her own budding relationship with Harry Potter was bound to get out, and Astoria wasn't capable of dealing with the cruel Slytherin when that happened.

"What do you two talk about?" She asked, hoping to pry some information from the younger girl.

Astoria smiled. "Everything!" She yelled, before composing herself; "potions mostly, though."

Outwardly she smiled at her younger sister. Because of her affliction, the brunette had never been the strongest caster, and had turned her relentless ambition to her other classes.

"That's nice, Stori."

The twelve-year-old beamed at her, and Daphne's heart leapt; the small lie was worth her sister's happiness.

Daphne stood up, leaving Astoria to her own devices, and walked slowly down the hill, providing her with a beautiful view of her family's home. While it wasn't much, there was no doubt that it was situated on a picturesque piece of land.

She walked slowly towards her father's study, taking the time to enjoy the touch of the sun on her fair skin.

She sighed as she entered the gloomy corridor, pausing at the last door on the left, she knocked.

"Come in!" The rough voice of her father called out, prompting her to step into the cozy study.

Alfred Greengrass motioned for her to take a seat.

"What is it, Daphne."

The slim girl composed her thoughts and rid her face of emotion; petty, emotional arguments would only disappoint her father.

"I was just enjoying a wonderful afternoon with my sister when a letter from Draco Malfoy arrived."

Her father perked up with interest, and it took all her focus to keep the anger off her face.

' _Astoria wasn't lying.'_

"So quickly?"

There was a sense of eagerness to her father's voice that didn't sit well with her.

"Why would you encourage that _particular_ friendship?"

Her father gave her a strange look; "why wouldn't I?"

' _Is he really this stupid? Or does he just not care?'_

Hoping it was the former, she pressed on.

"Draco Malfoy. The same Draco Malfoy that is closely related to Bellatrix Lestrange."

Her father frowned; "the same Draco Malfoy that is heir to one of the wealthiest families in Europe."

' _He doesn't care.'_

"Encouraging a relationship with Draco is encouraging a relationship with the family that killed our great aunt and gave Astoria her condition!" She screamed, allowing every ounce of anger to erupt out of her.

Alfred Greengrass remained calm. "I am fully aware of that." He raised his hand, cutting off another tirade from his oldest daughter. "But aligning with the Malfoy family has its benefits, and it makes Astoria _happy_." He ended with a smile.

"Besides, it's not as though they're getting married."

Daphne wasn't ready to give up; "Draco spent our childhood mocking me, and now you're okay with him?"

Her father gave her a disappointed look; "people change, Daphne. You aren't the same girl you were five years ago, it wouldn't be fair to hold Draco to those standards."

She scoffed. "My relationship with Potter is going to become public eventually. It's a conflict of interest, you're putting Astoria and the family in a difficult situation should another conflict break out."

It was her father's turn to get mad. "Daphne Queenie Greengrass;" he said with power, using her full name; "you have _no_ right to lecture me about the affairs of this family."

She met her father's stare. "If the rumors are true then we will have to pick a side sooner or later." She began with confidence, her gaze never leaving her fathers; "don't expect me to support the same side as the Lestrange family."

Daphne stood up and walked confidently towards the door, expecting her father to stop her at any second, but he never did.

* * *

He hummed to himself softly, a slight grin marred his handsome features as he twirled a dagger in his fingers.

Antonin Dolohov glanced at the light emanating from the house in front of him and checked his watch again.

' _23:42. Those little night-owls.'_ He thought with a grin.

He had been standing across the street from his targets home at the southern tip of 'Whisper Alley' for nearly two hours now, waiting patiently for his prey to fall asleep.

' _It will be worth the wait.'_ He reminded himself, relishing the opportunity to seek revenge on the man who put him in Azkaban.

Ten minutes later the Abercrombie's extinguished their lights, making the slender man tremble in anticipation.

The Death Eater waited another half an hour to ensure that his victims wouldn't hear his approach.

' _Я богу смерти.'_ He said to himself as he displaced of the basic security wards and slipped into a cheaply decorated foyer.

Antonin silenced himself before making his way up the spiral staircase towards the master suite.

Like a cat he made his way into the room and was greeted by a lightly decorated bedroom highlighted by a giant four-poster bed in the center.

He took a second to watch the couple sleep peacefully; Claudia Abercrombie had a content smile on her soft face as she slept in her husband's arms, their last peaceful moment on this earth.

The suffering he was about to cause aroused him.

He smiled ruthlessly as he grabbed a small camera from his bag, taking a second to take just the right picture.

Satisfied with his work, he silently stunned his two victims.

Binding them with rope, he floated them down to the living room, placing them softly on the floor before returning upstairs to the houses second bedroom.

He silently opened Euan Abercrombie's door, camera ready to snap his next photo, only to be met with disappointment at the empty bed.

"His parent's will have to do." He said to the empty room before taking a few minutes to cast a silencing ward over the house. _'We don't want to wake the neighbors, do we?'_

Jovially making his way downstairs, he headed back to the living room, taking a moment to eye his entertainment for the evening.

A second later an idea came to him, and with a malicious smile he conjured a plain desk chair, positioning Sebastian's body in the chair gently, he turned his attention to Claudia before un-freezing her.

The woman's eyes snapped open, and he reveled in the slow recognition that overcame her ugly face; confusion as she opened her eyes and stared at him.

Fright as she realized she was unable to move her arms or legs.

And finally, terror as she caught eye of her husband across the room.

"Shh, shh, shh, my sweet." He said softly, making himself visible for the first time.

Crouching down, Antonin Dolohov brushed the curly red hair out of the woman's face.

"We wouldn't want to wake your husband." He said quietly, bending in to kiss her softly on her dry lips.

He smelt urine, and he let out an amused laugh and checked his watch again.

"4 minutes! That's a new record!" He shouted with a genuine smile, planting another chaste kiss on her lips, he softly cupped her cheeks in his hands.

"You, my dear, are a marvel." He smiled.

' _I haven't been this aroused in years.'_

He turned his attention back to the unconscious body in front of him, quickly applying a sticking charm to the conjured chair, he revived the pudgy, middle-aged man in front of him; enjoying the same range of emotions come over him as did his wife.

Only this time Antonin saw recognition in his eyes.

"Welcome to the party, Sebastian!" He shouted jovially.

Gesturing to the man's shaking wife, he continued. "Your wife and I were just getting to know one another."

The man squirmed in his bindings, and he unsilenced him.

"You sick son of a bitch!" Abercrombie spat out.

He let out a wicked bout of laughter. "You have no idea!"

"What do you want with us?" Sebastian quivered as he made eye contact with his wife.

"I want to watch you suffer, suffer as I did." He roared in anger, remembering the man's testimony like it was yesterday.

"I - I should have killed you!" He shouted.

Dolohov looked him in the eye, and with a cruel smile retorted; "yes, you should have."

He smelt urine for the second time that evening and laughed at the pathetic man in front of him.

"Do you like games, Sebastian?" He asked conversationally.

The other man gulped; "wh-why?" The balding man managed to get out.

Antonin smiled, and quickly conjured a porcelain cup.

"Here's the rules to my game." He said softly, placing the cup on his head.

"If I hear this cup break, I kill your wife."

The larger woman started thrashing around on the ground, while he hit her still husband with another silencer, it would appear the man wasn't going to test him; good.

He turned sharply towards Claudia Abercrombie and cast a minor cutter, leaving a large gash on her chest, staining her now ripped nighty.

From behind him he heard her husband thrash, but the cup didn't break.

He removed her clothes ravenously, taking in her disgusting, flabby body and the large patch of curly red-hair between her legs.

The site was nearly enough to make him lose his erection, but the terror, the terror in her eyes brought him all the way back and he removed her silencing charm.

The woman screamed, and he punched her, causing her to whimper in pain.

Still no broken cup.

He grabbed her neck tightly, causing her to gag.

Fully erect he entered her forcefully.

' _Crash!'_ He stopped, turning around to see the broken cup spattered across the wooden floor.

In front of him Sebastian was crying.

His hand twitched towards his wand, but he steadied himself. _'Remember your plan.'_

Instead he flipped the woman around, so she was facing her husband.

Grabbing her by her thick, red hair and yanking her head back he entered her again, bringing his mouth close to her ears, and speaking just loud enough for her husband to hear him, Antonin whispered.

"Your husband didn't want to save your life."

He grabbed her by the neck again and flipped her around.

He looked her in the eyes as he worked, feeling the life draining out of her - he slipped into her mind, capturing her last, painful thoughts before succumbing to death.

Feeling the life leave her body, he climaxed.

Pulling out and turning to a weeping Sebastian he smiled. "This is all your fault, Sebastian."

The man wept silently.

A sudden idea sprung to his mind, and he let out a malicious smile.

Removing his dagger, he walked over to the lifeless form of Claudia Abercrombie.

He pushed some red hair away from her forehead and began to carve.

A few minutes later, he stood back and admired his work with a smile.

"All this work has made me hungry, Sebastian." He said as though he were speaking to an old friend. "Mind if I grab something from the icebox?"

' _Idiot doesn't even have an elf.'_

Rummaging around for a second, he found a plate of leftover roast.

Antonin glanced over his shoulder; "do you mind?" He said, looking directly at Sebastian.

The man was still crying so he shrugged and grabbed the plate.

Walking back into the living room he conjured himself another chair, as well as a small table and hit the plate with a heating charm.

He ate silently for a moment, savoring the delicious roast.

"Your wife may have been fat as fuck, Abercrombie. But she was a damn good cook." He said, mouth full of food.

The man mouthed something that looked like 'kill me,' and he smiled.

"I don't think so, Abercrombie. If you want to die, do it yourself."

Finishing the plate, he turned his attention back to the man in front of him.

"Where was I?" He contemplated loudly. "Oh yeah." He said, allowing a sadistic grin to grace his features, he grabbed his bloody dagger and began to carve a matching lightning bolt into Sebastian's forehead.

With a final touch, he floated the corpse of Claudia Abercrombie, and placed it on top of her horrified husband, adding a sticking charm for good measure.

Satisfied with his work, he took another picture.

* * *

' _Shit.'_ He thought to himself as he checked the time. _'Moody is going to kill me.'_

"Corpora Aditum." He whispered the notice-me-not charm quietly, unable to cast the spell silently, much to his chagrin.

Running out of the library and to the training room, he had to dodge a dark red spell as soon as he entered.

Spinning to his left, his wand was at the ready as he silently unleashed a series of bone breakers towards his opponent.

Moody deflected the spells with ease, sending back several silent cutters.

Harry deflected three of the cutters but was hit in the shoulder with the fourth.

"You're late." The scarred auror said.

"Cutters? Really?" He countered, silently healing his shoulder.

"You survived." Was the sadistic man's only reply.

"I was reading up on large area wards." He lied easily, Moody would be livid if he found out he was late to their meeting for reading up on Hogwarts.

Mad-Eye nodded suspiciously, but let the subject die, instead he began making demands of him.

Since their initial duel, Moody had been coming by several times a week to either fight or teach him how to manipulate magic; sometimes both.

The lessons were incredibly interesting, and on several occasions, Sirius had saw fit to join him.

If you could properly manipulate magic; you could curve spells to hit their target, narrow your spell to be as precise as a pinprick or widen it to cover a slightly larger area. You could also learn to control how much power you put into a spell; the more powerful and precise the spell, the further it can travel.

Unfortunately, all of that was far too advanced for him. Instead, he found himself manipulating _'lumos.'_

"Make a light but make it green." His instructor demanded in a slightly bored tone.

"Lumos." He whispered, concentrating on the image of a green light emanating from his wand.

A green light jumped out, and he held it silently, waiting for Moody to motion for him to continue.

His teacher inspected his spell from all angles before giving his approval.

"Good." He barked. "While still holding the spell, change the light to purple."

He visualized the green light beginning to fade, only to be replaced by a dark, violet light.

Slowly violet overtook green and Harry smiled triumphantly.

"Not a bad first attempt, Potter!" He snapped. "But much too slow!"

He frowned.

The pair spent the next hour trying to improve his speed, showing minimal progress by the end of their time together.

"I want you to practice in Italy, boy!" The old auror snapped.

"Yes, Master Moody." He replied obediently.

The old man nodded his head in satisfaction and left the room, leaving Harry to his own devices.

Remembering his book in the library, he smiled and ran off.

* * *

Moody shrunk his trunk and took one last look around the now empty office that had been his home for the last thirty years.

"I'll miss this place, Kingsley." He said to the man that had snuck up behind him.

With a low-pitched voice the younger man responded; "what will you do now, Alastor?"

He weighed the options in his mind; Kingsley was a skilled auror, and an up-and-comer in the auror department.

"Dark times are coming, Kingsley, would you agree?"

The younger man sat quietly for a minute. "Crime has certainly gone up over the last several years." He replied.

Mad-Eye came to a quick decision.

"Kingsley, let's do lunch at the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow and we can talk more."

The tall auror offered him a warm smile. "As long as you're buying."

Moody scoffed and grabbed a pinch of floo powder; "I'm unemployed, it's your treat."

Kingsley let out a deep laugh. "I'll respect my elders this time, Alastor."

The recently retired auror mumbled some words, then stepped into the green flame, emerging in a grandiose study across London.

"Alastor!"

Was the surprised response from Sirius Black.

"I wasn't expecting you, can I get you a drink?"

Moody gave the man a crooked grin and declined; "no need Sirius!" He said, shaking his half-empty flask.

Sirius gave him a nod. "What brings you to Grimmauld Place?" He said, his voice containing the slightest bit of suspicion - it wasn't like him to show up unannounced.

"I was just fired."

Black gave him a slightly shocked look; "Bones let you go, why?"

"On Nott's orders, but yes." He started. "They said I was getting too old."

Sirius frowned.

"It's just as well, Dumbledore wants my talents focused elsewhere." He let out a sadistic smile as he thought about actively fighting the Death Eaters.

He had the man's attention, now; "I was hoping you would join a small group I'm forming for the Order of the Phoenix."

Sirius smiled; "the Order's getting back together?"

"It will be, eventually, for now it's just me, Dumbledore, and you."

Sirius contemplated the offer for a minute.

"I'm hardly a fighter, anymore." Black complained.

Moody frowned; "I turned you into a capable auror once, I can do it again."

Sirius smiled. "Okay; who else do you have in mind?"

"Emmeline Vance, Bill Weasley, Nymphadora, and Remus."

Sirius nodded in agreement at almost every name; "why Bill Weasley?"

He could hear the skepticism in the man's voice; the Weasley family wasn't known for producing capable wizards.

"He's a Gringotts trained master cursebreaker."

Sirius was impressed. "He should talk to Harry."

At this Moody perked up; "the boy wants to be a cursebreaker?"

Sirius grinned; "no clue. But he loves runes, wards, and dark magic."

"That boy is special." Moody agreed.

"Alright." Sirius agreed. "I'm in."

Mad-Eye offered him a harsh smile and shot a stinging hex at his former student.

"To the basement!" Moody yelled out.

Sirius yelped but complied. _'No time like the present to start training.'_

* * *

The sun setting over the Tyrrhenian Sea was breathtaking, she thought as she tightened her grip on Blaise's hand.

The last few weeks had been the best of her life, and for the first time she dreaded returning to Hogwarts.

"What time are you meeting Harry for lunch tomorrow?"

Lily smiled; she hadn't seen the boy since school ended and was looking forward to having lunch with her friend.

"We're meeting at the cafe in the village tomorrow at noon."

The couple sat down in the sand, letting the waves wash over their toes as they sat in silence, enjoying each other's company.

"Did you hear about the Abercrombie's?" Blaise asked, breaking the silence.

At her confused look, Blaise continued. "Claudia Abercrombie was murdered, she had a lightning bolt carved into her forehead."

"Do you know who the killer is?" She asked.

Blaise shuddered; "her husband says it was Antonin Dolohov."

"He left him alive?"

Blaise looked disturbed. "She was raped to death in front of him."

She felt ill.

"Dolohov carved a lightning bolt into Sebastian Abercrombie's forehead as well."

She grimaced. "Do you think I should mention it to Harry?"

Her boyfriend thought for a few moments. "I would want to know if I were him."

She nodded in agreement. Harry would want to know.

Checking the time, Lily grimaced, she was late. Turning to Blaise, she gave him a light kiss. "I'm running late for dinner."

The boy smiled and returned her kiss. _'How did I get so lucky?'_

Tying her hair back in a ponytail, she ran through the sand, back to the path leading to her family's villa.

The path ran adjacent to main street, which was starting to come alive with the setting sun, she could hear music emanating from the various pubs as friends met for a drink on a Friday night.

She loved Florence.

As she walked the winding path towards her destination she grinned to herself as she began to think about her upcoming lunch with Harry. _'I wonder if he realizes how much he talks about Daphne in his letters?'_

The thought of her two powerful friends getting together excited her.

Lily Moon was so lost in thought, she never saw the pale blue light heading towards her from the bushes.

* * *

Harry made his way down the cobblestone street towards the cafe, fully aware that Lily would scold him if he were late.

' _Dammit, Sirius.'_ He thought to himself. _'You just had to hide my robes.'_

His godfather, he had realized, tended to get mischievous when he was bored.

"You're late." A confident, feminine voice called out.

He smiled as he made his way to the table, stopping to give her a brief hug.

"I blame my godfather." He said with a shrug.

She just smiled. How's your summer going?

She listened half-heartedly to Harry's answer.

' _Ask him more about his godfather.'_

The thought appeared out of nowhere. _'Why would I want to ask him about his godfather?'_ Lily thought to herself, confused as to where the thought came from.

"And how is Sirius doing?" She asked.

Harry smiled and began to talk about how Sirius was planning on rebuilding Black Manor in Yorkshire.

' _That's interesting.'_ She thought, though she didn't know why.

Lily quickly answered some questions about her and Blaise.

' _Harry's dating Daphne, right? Ask if he's met her family.'_

"How's Daphne doing?"

Harry smiled. "She's doing great!"

Realizing she had chosen the right topic, she smiled.

"Have you met Alfred and Victoria yet?" She said without thought.

Harry looked confused.

' _Why did you say that? You know he met Alfred…'_

"I mean since the Invitational."

Harry relaxed. "Alfred came and watched us duel a few times."

' _Ask if he has been to their home.'_

"Have they invited you to dinner?"

Harry shook his head. "No, why?"

"Just curious." She asked

The voice in Lily's head left her alone after that, and she quickly forgot its existence a few moments later.

* * *

He itched his skin in irritation as the salt water began to dry on his skin.

He, Remus, and Sirius were enjoying their last day in Italy spending their morning as muggles trying to learn how to surf.

"Can we get gelato?" He asked hopefully. Over the last week and a half, he had become quite fond of raspberry gelato, despite the beauty of Italy, he would miss the creamy desert the most when they returned to England.

"Of course!" His godfather responded.

The trio chatted amicably as they wandered the shops of magical Florence.

For the fifth day in a row, Harry was eager to see the newest flying carpets.

"I can't believe they're illegal in Britain!" He exclaimed as he eyed a beautiful violet and gold Persian rug.

"Can we get one, Sirius?" He asked. _"Please."_ He added, giving his godfather his best puppy-dog eyes.

His godfather smiled. "If you can come up with a way to sneak it back into Britain by the time we leave, I'll buy you one as a belated birthday gift."

He smiled; in general, if he was able to find a loophole to a rule, Sirius was more than happy to take it; when it came to flying carpets, he had anticipated this question and had done his research.

"You're the Head of 'The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.'" He started. "You have diplomatic immunity."

The ability to smuggle things in and out of the country with ease was important to the 'Most Ancient and Noble' houses, so in the mid-1600's they made themselves diplomats and gave themselves a degree of immunity when it came to importing goods.

The idea was that these 'Noble' houses could be trusted.

It was all bullshit, but if it got him a flying carpet he would gladly bend the rules.

Sirius smiled. "Good, you're learning."

He took his time picking one out before settling on the grandiose dark violet and gold rug he had been eying a moment ago.

The rug was elegant, fast, and could fit four; he imagined flying it over the 'Black Lake' at Hogwarts, Daphne by his side.

"You sure do have expensive taste." His godfather grumbled.

Remus laughed; "you shouldn't have made the wager if you weren't willing to shell out a few hundred galleons."

Leaving the store, Harry turned around, back towards the doorway as he took his turn to taunt Sirius.

"I hope -" He never got to finish his sentence as he felt himself walk into a solid.

Hearing a girlish shriek, he felt the body behind him crumble to the ground.

"I'm so, sorry…" He began, but never finished what he was saying.

Lying on the ground in front of him was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen; long, athletic legs gave way to a tight torso and a generous bust.

Light silver hair and blue eyes met his; the girl seemed to _radiate_ beauty; he had to use his occlumency shields just to look at her.

The girl - who looked to be around his age - offered him a brilliant smile, and with a moderate French accent waved off his apology with a beautiful laugh.

"It is okay."

Her soft hand grabbed his own as he helped her to her feet.

The girl gave him a curious once-over.

"I am Gabriel Delacour." She said looking him in the eye, offering him a soft hand.

Harry remembered his ongoing lessons with Madam Glass.

Grabbing her hand softly, he allowed his lips to lightly graze her knuckles. "I am Harry Potter." He said with a smile.

Turning to Remus and his godfather. "This is Lord Sirius Black, Head of the Most Ancient and Noble house of Black." His godfather offered her a smile and a bow; "and this is our friend Remus Lupin." Remus offered his own slight bow.

The girl offered them each a smile, and as he turned his full-attention back towards the girl in front of him, he noticed out of the corner of his eye his godfather and Remus sneak off back towards the path leading to their villa.

Gabrielle ignored the disappearing adults and returned her attention to him.

"Well 'arry Potter." She purred, grabbing his hand. "You can make it up to me with gelato."

He laughed, ignoring the guilt building up in his stomach as he thought of Daphne. _'It's not as if we are dating.'_ He thought to himself.

But was that true? He thought back to the London Invitational, their lunch at the 'Sneaky Serpent' and all the time they had spent together over the past month.

' _We haven't had that talk.'_ He rationalized. _'Hell, we haven't even kissed!'_

They held hands as they chatted, getting their gelato and grabbing a table facing the Tyrrhenian Sea.

"So 'Arry." Gabrielle started. "What do you do for fun?" She asked, her foot rubbing his calf.

He fought a blush.

"I'm a Hogwarts champion dueler." He said proudly, hoping to impress her. "I also enjoy flying, reading, and spending time with friends."

She gave him a charming smile. "Will you try out for the 'ogwarts dueling team for the tournament?"

He didn't know the rules of the tournament, but he was sure he would be, and he said as much.

They fell into a light banter as they enjoyed each-others company.

"Gabrielle…" He started; there was a question he had been dying to ask her all afternoon.

She gave him a questioning look that somehow managed to be seductive.

"I can tell you're not completely human."

"Does that bother you, 'arry?" She asked.

"Not in the slightest." He responded immediately, thinking of Remus.

"I am part veela." She said.

He smiled, having read up on veela.

It was getting late, and he was disappointed when she put an end to their conversation.

"I have to go 'arry." She said, and he frowned, he had really enjoyed the French witch.

Gabrielle appeared to get nervous. "Can I write to you?" She asked shyly.

He smiled. "Of course! You will be at Hogwarts this year, right?"

She nodded cutely. "You will have to give me a tour."

"You can count on it." He smiled confidently at her.

She looked in his eyes, and he sensed her tense up in uncertainty for a moment before taking a couple of steps towards him.

Leaning in she beautiful veela placed a soft kiss on his lips. "I look forward to it, Harry."

That night, as Harry examined his new flying carpet, he smiled, picturing a ride with a silver-haired veela.

* * *

"Harry can you meet me in the kitchen?"

His godfather looked serious, and with a nod from Tonks he headed up the staircase. A left and a right turn later found him in the kitchen with Sirius.

He cleared his face of emotion.

"What is it, Sirius?" He asked neutrally.

At his response his godfather's charade shattered.

"Happy belated birthday!" He said, pushing an envelope his way.

Breaking the seal and opening the envelope, he let a giddy smile cross his face.

"Thank you, Sirius!" He said excitedly.

"Who are you going to bring?" His godfather asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

He rolled his eyes; but on the inside he had to respect his godfather's cunning, two tickets to the Quidditch World Cup final forced him to confront the Daphne situation, of course he could ignore it and bring Terry….

He sighed. "Daphne…"

"What's wrong, Harry?" Sirius asked, false sincerity in his voice.

"It's Gabrielle."

His godfather smiled mischievously; "what about her, Harry?"

His cheeks reddened, and suddenly, he found the clock in the hallway a hell of a lot more interesting.

"She kissed me." He admitted.

His godfather howled in laughter.

"You have a beautiful _girlfriend_ here in Britain _and_ a French _veela_ pinning after you? I have sympathy for you, Harry."

"I _don't_ have a girlfriend." He replied stubbornly.

His godfather rolled his eyes, and he frowned at Sirius's sarcasm. "Do I tell Daphne?"

Black got sincere; "do you want to date her? Or do you just kind of like her?"

He thought about it for a second. _'Daphne is smart, vicious, funny, and beautiful.'_

"I want to date her."

Sirius smiled thoughtfully. "You need to tell her soon, while things are still easy; you don't even need to tell her the entire truth; the important thing is she hears about the kiss from you."

"I can't believe Septima puts up with you." He deadpanned.

Sirius smiled; "I know. I'm a lucky guy."

His godfather got a contemplative look on his face; "what do you think of Septima, Harry?" He asked sincerely.

He didn't need to think too long before giving his answer. "She's amazing, Sirius." He said with a smile.

His godfather let out a sigh of relief. "I'm going to ask her to marry me."

Harry smiled; "when?"

"When the time is right." Was his godfather's response.

* * *

' _I should've cast a damn cooling charm.'_ She thought, a foul look on her disillusioned face.

"Does your dad ever talk about the Wizengamot?"

Draco's drawl made her want to puke.

Astoria seemed oblivious to the prat's attempt to uncover information and offered him a pretty smile.

Her little sister let herself get distracted by a butterfly sitting on some lavender somewhere behind Malfoy, and to her left.

Draco frowned.

' _What did you expect, you prat, she's barely twelve.'_

"Father doesn't generally bother me with such tedious things;" the younger Greengrass girl responded. "Daphne takes on that burden for me."

She could almost _hear_ Draco frown.

"It's quite hot out, isn't it?" The older boy asked her sister.

Ever the hostess Astoria stood up and offered her guest her arm.

"Then let me show you the house."

Daphne stalked the pair silently as Astoria showed Draco their home.

"And this is our library, it's nothing, compared to yours, I'm sure."

Draco offered her sister a brilliant smile. "I love it."

Astoria blushed.

' _Bless her heart.'_

"I've heard your family has an extensive collection of memories from your Aunt Ophelia, I'd love to see one."

Astoria sighed. "I don't have access to those without father's permission until I'm fourteen." She said with a frown. "Daphne says they're brilliant, though."

Draco frowned, and she quietly stalked off, she had her own date to prepare for.

* * *

He fidgeted nervously as he pushed the eggs around his plate.

"What's the matter, Harry. Nervous for your meeting with Daphne?" Sirius teased, as Septima scolded him.

"Don't be, Harry. She'll understand."

He smiled at Septima. He _was_ nervous, and more than a little frightened; Daphne Greengrass was gifted with a wand in her hand.

' _Maybe I shouldn't have invited her over to duel?'_ He thought to himself.

It wasn't the first time over the last few days he had regretted inviting her over for a fight, but he thought giving her a chance to punish him in the pit would go a long way in the healing process.

An hour later found a still nervous Harry hugging a chipper Daphne Greengrass.

She released him from the hug; "what's wrong, Harry?" She said with the slightest hint of concern in her voice, amplifying his guilt even more.

"Before we duel, can we talk for a few minutes?"

A ghost of a smile played at her full lips. "Want to get me all alone, huh?"

' _When did Daphne become so flirtatious?'_

"I - I want to tell you about something that happened in Italy, it's no big deal, but I thought you should know since, well, you know."

"Since I'm your girlfriend." Daphne deadpanned.

' _I guess that mystery is solved.'_

He wiped some sweat from his brow nervously.

"Now remember, we hadn't had _this talk_ a few days ago, and it's really not my fault…"

She frowned, "you're rambling, Harry." She hissed.

"Yes. Well. In Italy, I ran into this girl - a veela actually - and, well, she kissed me."

Hurt flashed across her face briefly and he felt a pain deep in his stomach. A second later, the hurt was gone replaced by her usual, stoic facade a second later.

"How did you feel?" She asked.

"What - what do you mean?"

"Did you enjoy it? Did she ensnare you with her veela charm? I want some details."

The brilliance of Sirius's words caught up with him. _'I can write the narrative.'_

"She didn't ensnare me, and the kiss was unexpected, and disappointing."

He could tell he scored some points with Daphne with that last part.

"What was her name?"

"Gabrielle Delacour." He said nervously. "And she'll be at Hogwarts next year for the Triwizard Tournament."

"Daphne." He began. "I don't want to date her, but Gabrielle was really nice, I'd like to remain friends with her after I explain things to her."

His girlfriend put on a fake smile.

"I'm not worried about it, Harry. Let's duel."

She jetted ahead of him by a few steps so he couldn't see her wipe a tear from her eye.

' _I was supposed to be his first kiss.'_

There's nothing she could do about it now. _'At least he told me.'_ She thought sadly. She honestly didn't know if she liked knowing, ignorance could be bliss.

' _For some.'_ She thought, dismissing the saying.

Daphne took her place across from Harry as Tonks and Mad-Eye watched on with interest from the sidelines.

The two, along with her tutoring with Apollo Carrow, had pushed her to the limits this summer.

She opened fire first; sending a series of pain and trauma curses at her boyfriend. _'No taking it easy on him, if he wanted that he wouldn't be with me.'_

Harry easily batted the curses away before sending a wide-area stunner her way, forcing her to shield.

When she turned her focus back to the arena Harry was gone.

' _Two can play that game.'_ She thought as she silently cast a disillusionment charm on herself, slowly moving around the arena looking for her opponent.

' _Gotcha.'_ She thought, sending a series of bone-breakers and blood-boilers his way.

Potter howled in pain as his disillusionment charm disappeared.

He recovered, unleashing a series of concussion hexes her way, which she dodged easily. ' _He's not holding back.'_ She smiled, welcoming the challenge.

Several metal projectiles crashed into her ribs with a sickening crunch, and she felt blood beginning to pool in her mouth.

She botched the healing charm on her ribs and howled in pain as she ducked another curse, firing back with an overpowered 'debiles fulminus.'

"Impressive, Daphne!" Harry said, apparating out of the way of her lightning spell with a loud 'crack.'

"But not good enough!"

She growled.

"This is how it's done, 'Fulminis!'"

Multiple tangents of violent black lightning erupted from his wand, as he hit her with the more advanced lightning spell.

She screamed in pain and the curse was lifted.

"Good one, Potter." She choked out as Tonks and Moody descended upon them.

"Great fight you two!" Moody shouted out in approval. "Show no mercy!"

Tonks gave them a bemused look; "is this how you treat your girlfriend, Harry?"

Harry shrugged the pink-haired witch off; "she would kill me if I held back."

Daphne smiled and downed the potion Moody offered her, feeling her pain disappear moments later.

"It's true." She replied, grabbing Harry's hand.

' _I'm better than some stupid, delicate veela. Harry knows that.'_

Her hand still in his, Harry turned to her.

"I want to show you something!" He said, as they made their way upstairs and to a familiar doorway.

"You move fast, don't you Harry?" She said, cocking her head slightly to the side and offering him a half smile.

She didn't need legilimency to see the effect her look had on him.

He blushed cutely but led her inside.

The room was lightly decorated, with a small bookshelf and a desk acting as the highlights.

The Ravenclaw made his way over to his desk, hissing something at his mirror, she saw it begin to shimmer as Harry reached in, pulling out a small box.

"Impressive concealment, Harry."

He smiled at her; "I read about it and thought it sounded interesting, I had to master it."

Not many people had the internal drive that Harry had. When he wanted to do something, he did it, it didn't matter how long it took.

He opened the box up and pulled out a beautiful rug.

"Is that a flying carpet?" She asked him, greedily grabbing it from his hands, giving the artefact a look-over. "It's beautiful."

He gave her a grin, and her heart skipped a beat. "I got it in Italy." He said. "Do you want to fly it?"

She accepted with a certain level of giddiness; "I know the perfect place." Daphne said, grabbing Harry's hand.

The hills surrounding Daphne's home were brilliant, he thought as he and his girlfriend hovered twenty-five feet off the ground.

"I can't understand why these things were outlawed." Daphne grumbled as they ate from the picnic basket sitting between them. "They're so convenient."

The pair had spent the last few hours jetting around the Greengrass family's property, dipping and diving, enjoying each other's company.

He enjoyed his sandwich in silence as he gazed over the lush flower gardens beneath him.

"It's beautiful." He said absentmindedly.

"I've always enjoyed this view." Daphne admitted from next to him.

"Sometimes I grab a broomstick and hover above the gardens as the sun sets. It's so peaceful."

He smiled, and their eyes met.

Without giving it much thought, he leaned his head closer to hers, invading her personal space.

Catching on to his idea, Daphne fluttered her eyes, leaning in closer to his approaching lips.

Both their breaths quickened as their first kiss rapidly approached, shutting his eyes softly, Harry went to close the last couple of millimeters between them.

' _Crash!'_ His nose hit hers full-on, and the blonde girl giggled.

He opened his eyes and smiled softly, staring at Daphne as she laughed.

' _She looks so carefree.'_ He thought with a smile.

While she was laughing, he reached out with his hand and grabbed the collar of her shirt, smashing his lips against hers.

He felt her smile into his lips, returning his kiss awkwardly.

They held the kiss for a moment before he remembered Madam Glass's lesson on etiquette and pulled away softly.

The pair recovered, and he landed the carpet with a smile.

"Come on, I'll show you the rest of the property." Daphne said grabbing his hand.

He couldn't help but compare the Greengrass family home to Grimmauld Place as she gave him the grand tour.

Where Grimmauld Place was a grandiose, three-story townhome; Daphne's home reminded him more of the Dursleys two-story home, but slightly larger.

She led him into the family's small library.

"I want to show you something." She said, her casual smile replaced with a sly grin as she walked over to the pensieve sitting in the corner.

"Since you've already read a few of her books, I thought I'd show you one of my great aunt's memories."

He perked up in interest and greedily made his way to the pensieve and dipped his head in.

He watched quietly as an attractive woman with black hair silently moved through the war-torn village.

Harry and Daphne moved closer to the woman who was taking stock of her position from behind a still-smoking building.

"You're surrounded, Greengrass, give it up!" A man's voice shouted.

With a flick of her wrist, Ophelia Greengrass silently cast 'hominem revelio' on her surroundings.

He observed the woman - who had to be in her late 20's - as her intelligent eyes moved about her surroundings.

" _Six."_ The woman scoffed under her breath. _"Do they really think so little of me?"_

A quick wave of her wand produced a thick black smoke, and the woman disappeared.

Unable to see, he shot a glance at Daphne, only to see the blonde grinning.

A sickly yellow light dashed through him, and an enemy he hadn't noticed behind him exploded in a show of gore.

The smoke disappeared a second later, and a spear impaled another man a few meters away.

"You should have brought more men, Yaxley." The newly visible Ophelia Greengrass taunted.

The portly man returned fire, and the witch didn't even try and move as the spell passed through her.

' _Impressive illusion.'_ He thought to himself as a familiar dark flame whip decapitated several more men.

"Enough of this, Ophelia." A powerful, familiar voice said firmly.

Turning to its source, Harry took in the man in front of him.

Not much older than the woman he was talking to, the man with dark red hair, a goatee, and a ponytail radiated power.

"Headmaster Dumbledore?" He mumbled to himself, and Daphne gave him another smirk.

"Albus!" The witch replied conversationally as she ducked into a familiar dueling stance. "My old friend, how good to see you!"

Albus Dumbledore didn't respond, choosing to duck into his own dueling stance.

"Interesting." He mumbled as he observed Dumbledore's more square-stance.

"It's a better stance for transfiguration and countering." Daphne said from next to him, her eyes never leaving the scene playing out in front of her.

He didn't respond as his headmaster opened with a cutter.

Ophelia batted away the spell, and the duel began in earnest, neither duelist giving an inch.

Ophelia Greengrass was brilliant as she relentlessly attacked, deftly dodging spells as she did so.

The battle raged on with the two locked in a stalemate.

"I don't want to hurt you, Ophelia, but you're leaving me little choice." Albus said between spells.

The black-haired-beauty laughed, tacking a piercing curse to the shoulder to finish her spell.

"That's the difference between us Albus, I have no qualms hurting you, if you continue to stand in my way, neither does Gellert." She added, trying to keep the exhaustion out of her voice.

With a twirl of her wand, the sky began to darken, and Albus Dumbledore's eyes widened.

Large balls of ice began to fall from the sky, violently exploding as they hit the ground.

The explosions pushed Albus Dumbledore backwards, as the warlock was forced to shield from Ophelia's display of might.

While Albus worked to counter the spell, Greengrass shook from exhaustion, and with a satisfied smirk on her face, she gripped her necklace, and disappeared.

* * *

A familiar tug on his navel deposited him at the campsite for the Quidditch World Cup Final.

"Having trouble staying on your feet, Daphne?" His godfather remarked, smirking at the blonde girl who was currently on the ground.

"Watch it Black." His girlfriend growled back.

Sirius smiled innocently; "do purebloods no longer teach their children how to travel by portkey?"

"These days proper purebloods apparate. You'd know that if you hadn't gotten yourself thrown in jail for a decade."

Sirius flashed her a look of faux hurt; "you wound me." He deadpanned.

"Alright you two, cut it out." Remus said with a smile.

At his questioning look, Remus turned his way; "someone has to be the adult here."

Sirius rolled his eyes and grabbed Septima's hand. "Alright you two." He said, handing them their tickets. "We will meet you in the box half hour before the match, please stick together."

He smiled at his godfather; "we will, don't worry."

The campground was full of life as various vendors offered both Irish and Bulgarian merchandise.

"He is kind of cute." Daphne giggled as she examined the miniature model of Bulgarian seeker Viktor Krum as he paced around the table.

"Only five sickles, miss." The middle-aged vendor remarked.

"No thank you, I'm pulling for Ireland."

The vendor smiled; "we have Aidan Lynch models as well." The vendor said, motioning towards a smiling model waving at people as they passed by.

"I don't know about a model, but if you sell jerseys, I'll take one."

Daphne glanced at him and he sighed; "make that two, please." He said pulling out a stack of galleons.

Tossing on their jerseys, he put his arm around his girlfriend's waste as they chatted idly and wandered aimlessly.

"Krum _is_ better than Lynch, but Ireland has the better team, you keep ignoring that fact, Harry." Daphne pointed out for what seemed like the hundredth time.

He smiled; until he had invited her to the final, he hadn't realized the girl knew anything about quidditch.

"Yes; but if you have a talented enough seeker, it doesn't matter what your Keeper's save percentage is, or that Troy, Mullet, and Moran have been playing together for almost a decade."

She shrugged. "Krum's superiority only matters if he catches the snitch in the first hour, after that the Bulgarians have no chance."

The couple picked up some food at a vendor and Harry conjured a blanket for them to sit on to enjoy their impromptu picnic.

"How difficult were the OWL's?" Daphne asked as she took a bite of his egg-salad sandwich.

He frowned at her theft; "disappointingly easy. If you have kept up in class they are no more difficult than a final."

"What did they focus on?" She asked in curiosity.

He thought for a moment, finishing his sandwich. "Combining high-level concepts, mostly. Both exams had a couple theoretical questions about some of the things we learned in first or second year, but for the most part the writing portion combines theories from the first five years of classes. The practical side of things focused on newer material."

She nodded as she positioned herself between his legs, leaning back to rest her head on his chest.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while; watching the various groups of people pass by.

From the corner of his eye he grinned as his godson did his best to completely ignore the Bulgarian cheerleaders dancing on the pitch.

"Your French friends a veela, isn't she Harry?" Daphne asked with faux curiosity.

Sirius grinned to himself; everyone in their box knew who Gabrielle Delacour was.

To his credit, Harry looked unfazed. "Part veela, but yes."

He tuned the pair out and glanced towards the south end of the stadium where he knew Kingsley and Tonks were keeping watch.

Despite his differences with the filthy man, Severus Snape was a reliable source of Death Eater information - if he says the Quidditch World Cup is going to be attacked, it probably was.

And if there was to be an attack, the final was the perfect place. While the World Cup final took place on British soul, it was technically sovereign territory that was historically secured by the finalists.

He lost his train of thought as Lynch fell for one of Krum's feints. _'Kid sounds dumb-as-a-doorknob, but damn, can he fly!'_

Next to him Septima was screaming obscenities at the Bulgarian beaters for not providing Krum with enough protection. _'I wonder how much she put on Bulgaria?'_

He smirked; Septima didn't know he knew about her little gambling problem - it was one of those imperfections that made him love her.

" _And Krum has caught the snitch!"_

Sirius smiled as the Bulgarian seeker, covered in blood from a rogue bludger, hoisted his arm in the air, allowing the crowd to see the snitch in his palm.

"Losing with honor. I can respect that." Daphne said with approval from next to his godson.

"Alright, kids, time to get you home, I promised Alfred that Daphne would be returned after the game."

Daphne chatted amicably with Professor Vector as they made their way towards the entrance of the gigantic stadium.

The game had been magnificent. Despite not catching the snitch, the Irish had won, and at the end of the match, that's all that matters.

She lurched forward as someone's forearm drove into her back.

"Watch it asshole!" She began to yell, only to be shaken by a loud explosion from somewhere nearby.

"Remus! Get the kids outside so they can portkey home!"

Before the other man could respond, she felt herself flying, landing on the hard cement floor with a _'thud.'_

Her ears were ringing as she took in the chaos around her as Bulgarian and Irish aurors fought with black robes and bone-white masks.

' _Death Eaters.'_ She thought as a hand pulled her to her feet.

"Let's get out of here!" Her boyfriend shouted through the noise, brandishing the quill that served as their portkey home.

"Where are the others?" She asked out of curiosity.

She could see Remus off in the distance, but Vector and Black eluded her.

"I'm sure they're fine, let's go!"

Outside the stadium they were met with more chaos at the campsite as Death Eaters were fighting with the Bulgarian and Irish aurors.

' _Where are the British?'_ She thought as he watched another tent go up in flames.

"Let's move, Daphne!"

Despite the situation she shuddered at the calm power in her boyfriend's voice.

The couple stuck to the edges, heading towards the ward line.

She let out a painful howl as she felt her left arm break, blocking the pain, she immediately ducked into a crouch, noticing that Harry was doing the same.

Automatically they had their backs to each other, and she attempted to take stock of their situation.

"There's six of them!" Harry yelled pointing to the trees surrounding them, he let loose a barrage of entrails expelling curses into the dark trees in front of them.

Daphne ignored the pain, delivering a series of blood-boilers and bone-breakers towards her anonymous attackers.

' _Where the hell are they?'_ She thought as she cast a disillusionment charm on herself.

Behind her she felt Harry do the same thing.

' _Fuck that's a killing curse.'_ She thought, transfiguring a rock into a small wall, allowing it to absorb the hit.

" _Ignem Aestifer!"_ She shouted in retaliation, unleashing a torrent of dark fire into the woods.

She had to end her spell a few seconds later, dodging to avoid an unknown dark orange curse.

' _We need to find a way out of here.'_

She dipped and dodged with abandon as her disillusionment charm fell.

' _We're losing.'_ She realized in horror as she took an organ rupturing curse to her chest.

He felt liquid hit his face as he attempted to fight off their attackers and took a second to brush it away.

' _Is that blood?'_ He thought, glancing to check on Daphne.

To his horror, she was on the ground wheezing, coughing up blood.

Rage and desperation coursed through his veins.

He dug deep, and with an evil smile he had an idea.

Turning to Daphne, he cast a quick bubblehead charm on her before doing the same to himself.

" _Venenum Mortem!"_ He shouted, turning himself in a circle, covering the area in a thick, mustard yellow haze.

He imagined the pain his attackers were feeling as the breathed in the poisonous gas, allowing it to attack their organs with gusto.

Not taking the time to admire his work, he stunned Daphne and levitated her through the poison and past the wards, quickly portkeying home.

"Kreacher!" He yelled in desperation as he entered the main hallway.

The elf appeared a moment later.

"Stabilize Daphne and take her to my room. I will be back in a few minutes."

The elf nodded, grabbing his girlfriend and silently disappearing.

Making his way to the fireplace he grabbed a pinch of floo powder. "Greengrass Estate!"

A blonde haired blue-eyed woman answered the floo immediately.

"Mr. Potter." The woman said softly. "Is there something wrong?"

"The final was attacked by Death Eaters! Daphne's been injured, she needs to be moved to St. Mungo's."

Daphne's mother got white as a ghost and turned serious, let me through.

The attractive older woman made her way through the floo, and he took her to his room.

"Where is Lord Black?"

Harry didn't break his pace.

"We got separated in the attack. Daphne and I were trying to make our way outside the wards, so we could get home when we were ambushed."

"How did you escape?" She inquired, her tone laced with curiosity.

"We fought our way out." He said, before smiling viciously. "Poison gas. They'll never hurt her again."

Despite the situation, Victoria Greengrass smiled. "My daughter is a fighter, Harry."

It was his turn to smile as they turned into his room. "Of course, she is."

Victoria quietly examined her daughter, casting several spells as she did before coming to a decision.

"Plunk!"

A slightly overweight elf appeared in front of them a second later.

"Take Daphne to see Hestia, tell her she has been hit by an organ exploding curse, I believe it hit her kidney's."

Plunk nodded in acknowledgement and disappeared with Daphne.

"Ma'am." He began. "I'd like to sit with Daphne."

The attractive witch smiled. "Lord Black would want you here, Harry. Daphne will be fine, although she may be a few days late to Hogwarts. Thank you for taking care of my daughter, Harry." She said somberly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go inform her father."


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** If I could make money off of Harry Potter, I wouldn't be writing FF.

 **A/N:** We cross 100k with this chapter, congratulations to me.

* * *

Bill eyed the crowd with suspicion; knowing any lapse in concentration would be noticed by the paranoid man next to him.

"Pay attention, Weasley!" The crazed, ex-auror snapped.

' _For fucks sake, I'm being vigilant.'_ He thought in muted frustration

"Ahh." His partner let out happily from next to him a minute later.

"The two men near the entrance, do you recognize them?"

He took in the men thirty or so meters to his right.

Two men with drooping faces and thinning hair were surveying the crowd muttering amongst themselves. While the tall, sturdily-built blonde man looked familiar, he couldn't place the name.

"Not instinctually, no."

"Malcolm Avery and Rodolphus Lestrange, both escaped in the Azkaban breakout, and both are members of Voldemort's inner-circle."

He flinched slightly at the use of the dark lord's name but kept his eye on the dangerous men still standing some ways to his right.

A loud explosion from behind them rocked him from his thoughts, and suddenly the atrium was alight with debris and color as masked figures appeared from thin air.

"Pay attention, boy!" Moody yelled over the noise. "I'll handle Lestrange and his masked friend, you take care of Avery."

' _Where the hell are the aurors?'_ He thought to himself.

He knew the Bulgarians and the Irish had primary responsibility for the events security, but they were struggling to contain the chaos, British aurors were supposed to be called in for these situations.

He grunted out his acceptance and let loose a flesh-eating hex at his opponent.

His hex barely missed the dark-haired man's shoulder, causing him to turn his attention away from the fleeing crowd.

' _Coward.'_ He thought. _'Fight like a man!'_

The death eater seemingly read his mind as he grunted in anger, letting loose a series of vile-looking black and yellow spells.

Bill smacked the first two away with ease before conjuring a slab of granite to absorb the third.

Using the debris from the granite, he transfigured the halves into small rhino's, sending them thundering towards Avery.

With the animals as a distraction, he cast a quick disillusionment charm on himself and charged towards the death eater, unleashing a series of bludgeoners and bone-breakers as he moved.

Avery's left-arm exploded in a spray of gore, covering the immediate area with bone and blood.

Next to him, Moody took the distraction as an opportunity to finish off his masked opponent, getting hit with a puncturing curse in his side as a result.

' _Moody is going to lose this fight.'_

With that realization Bill moved to finish his duel.

The death eater was distracted by the remaining rhino, and his missing arm; Bill took aim, silently sending a bludgeoner, hitting his opponent in the side of the head.

Next to him Rodolphus let out a roar at the death of his comrade, taking his eye off Moody to fire several killing curses his way.

Bill conjured a marble shield to intercept the first, before diving out of the way of the second.

Moody used the distraction wisely, hitting Lestrange with a killing curse of his own, ending the fight as suddenly as it had started.

Bill glanced around, looking for the familiar royal blue robes of the auror force. _'Still no response.'_

The thought scared the hell out of him.

Bill took the momentary pause to heal Moody, before glancing around at the chaos around them.

The area was a war-zone, the atrium completely torn apart, dust and debris everywhere.

"Potter!" Moody stated from next to him, pointing to a head of messy black hair leading a pretty blonde girl out of the arena by her hand.

"They're trying to make it to the portkey zone." Moody stated. "We'll follow them."

Bill frowned, but nodded, following the pair as they followed the path as it wound its way into the woods and back towards the campsite.

"Something's wrong." He muttered to Moody.

"Good instincts, Weasley." The grizzled warrior complimented. "Potter's walking into an ambush."

Bill ran ahead of the ex-auror as the forest around them lit up.

' _Shit.'_

He heard a girlish cry of pain, followed by a plume of mustard smoke emanating from the area a moment later.

Bill began to choke and hastily applied a bubblehead charm.

' _I'm too late.'_ He panicked, as he sprinted into the clearing.

With a conjured gust of wind, the gas began to dissipate, leaving behind a violent display of gore.

three men in blood-covered, bone-white masks lay dead in a half-circle around the opening, each of whom had vomited various pieces of esophagus and intestine.

The fourth victim wasn't wearing a mask, but his condition was the same.

' _Walden Macnair.'_ He realized.

The entire sight was horrific.

' _Did Potter do this?'_

Unfazed, Bill searched frantically for several minutes, but Harry Potter and his companion, had escaped the massacre.

* * *

Harry woke up early the morning of September 1st and quietly made his way to the floo, intent on visiting Daphne as soon as possible.

The previous night's events continued to play through his mind, he had been thankful when Sirius, Tonks, Remus, and Septima arrived safely at Grimmauld Place shortly after his talk with Victoria Greengrass.

Little was known about the attack; or at least Harry knew very little, he suspected Sirius wasn't telling him everything, and for the moment, that was okay. He took solace in knowing that his family, and his girlfriend, were safe.

"Here so early?" A voice greeted him as soon as he stepped out of the floo.

Despite having met the man on several occasions, Alfred Greengrass was largely a stranger to him.

"Yes sir, with your permission I would like to stay until the Welcome Feast starts this evening."

The older man stared at him for a long moment, and he absentmindedly noted that he and Daphne shared the same green eyes.

"She won't be conscious until tomorrow." The taller man countered.

"I brought a few books, sir." He said, patting the bag hanging from his shoulder.

Lord Greengrass appraised him for a moment longer, a shade of a smile tugging at his lips.

"I was just going to check on her myself." He said, turning on his heel.

The pair ascended a flight of stairs in silence before Alfred led him into his daughter's room.

The room was smaller than he had expected, but well decorated with dark violet walls, several bookcases, a wardrobe, and a messy desk.

In the center of the room, Daphne slept peacefully on a queen-sized bed.

With a flick of his wand, Alfred conjured a comfortable looking chair for himself before plopping down, making no effort to help Harry.

Daphne's father eyed him carefully, as if waiting to be impressed.

' _Is everything a test with this family?'_

Picturing his uncle's leather recliner, he silently flicked his wand, conjuring a perfect replica of the comfortable chair.

Using occlumency to keep a grin off his face, he plopped down, grabbing Daphne's hand with his own.

Alfred glanced at his hand but didn't object to the small display of intimacy.

"What happened last night, Mr. Potter?"

Harry told him everything; from inspecting the various vendors right up until Victoria sent away for healers.

The elder Greengrass listened calmly, only stopping him to ask several follow-up questions.

"You could have left at any time, Harry. Why did you save my daughter?"

The question surprised him, he had never considered his actions, he had only known that doing nothing would kill Daphne, and he couldn't live with that.

"I care about Daphne." He started. "I care about her more than just about anything on this planet, I will always try and protect her."

To his surprise, Alfred didn't smile, silently handing him a copy of that morning's Daily Prophet.

 _ **Potter Kills Four at the World Cup Final! Saves Heiresses Life!**_

He read the article silently. Apparently, several witnesses had seen Harry and Daphne flee the arena together, while another had seen Harry floating Daphne through the woods before portkeying to safety.

The article showed the graphic aftermath of the spell he had used, and the author speculated that it was he who had cast it.

"Surprisingly accurate." He responded nonchalantly, handing the paper back to Lord Greengrass, who looked momentarily shocked; "although they jump to the conclusion that it must have been me without providing any evidence."

"People are going to be afraid of you now, Harry." He pointed out.

He frowned slightly. "You don't think Daphne will be afraid of me, do you?"

Alfred shook his head; "my daughter will be grateful."

"Then I don't care what the rest think." And it was true; he had cared once-upon-a-time, back in first and second year, but that was a long time ago.

His classmates - outside of a few - didn't like him and he couldn't care a less what they thought of him, they weren't worth his time, Daphne was.

Alfred nodded curtly. "Good."

The pair sat in silence for a few minutes.

"She thinks that I don't care." He said sadly.

"Care about what, sir?" He asked, confusion evident in his voice.

The older man ignored his question. "I'm playing a dangerous game, Harry."

"Why is that, sir?" He blurted out, hoping the man would answer one of his questions.

"The Greengrass family is unique among the Wizengamot." The dark-haired man started. "We are a middle-class pureblood family with few connections, and therefore of little consequence to the Dark Lord; or we would be if not for my Aunt's connection to Bellatrix Lestrange."

With his questioning gaze, Alfred continued. "Historically speaking, the Greengrass family has lived a quiet existence; because we have kept to ourselves, and never held any real power. Because of this, my family has remained an afterthought in most conflicts that have arose.

Ophelia broke that mold, and instead of doing the honorable thing and dying in battle where she couldn't do our family harm, she trained a monstrous apprentice who ended up killing her, and anyone else she saw fit."

He took a sip of tea, "Bellatrix Lestrange is the dark lord's most violent, smart, loyal, and cunning soldier. If Voldemort has a weakness, there is a strong likelihood that he told Bellatrix, who may have confided in Ophelia."

"You fear her experiences make your family a target." He stated with skepticism, it sounded rather unrealistic.

"It already has." He confirmed. "Draco Malfoy has gotten close to my youngest daughter over the last few months. I have encouraged Astoria to remain friends with him for the time being, despite Daphne's objections."

His blood-boiled. He could understand why Daphne wanted Malfoy away from her sister.

"Being close to him," Alfred started, "and to you," he admitted; "leaves my family in a situation that cannot be maintained."

"Then why did you put yourself in it? Why did you lie to Daphne" He asked.

The other man smiled; "sometimes we wear masks to keep those we love safe. You'll understand that someday, Harry. In the meantime, I want you to keep an eye on my daughters at Hogwarts, let me know if anything out of the ordinary happens."

* * *

' _I'm late.'_ He thought with a frustrated sigh.

He had spent the entire day, sans a few hours, next to Daphne, and had floo'd into Tonks' private chambers at Hogwarts only a moment before.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous for his entrance. Despite the self-assured response he had provided to Alfred, he was concerned about the consequences of his actions.

Thankfully he had the support of Sirius, who along with Andromeda had assured him that he had acted in self-defense, and that the ministry lacked the evidence to bring him up on charges.

He sprinted the rest of the way through the narrow passage, emerging a few meters from the entrance to the great hall.

Harry paused outside the doors and sighed; the rest of the school had already been seated and was waiting for the sorting.

He gently pushed the left door open, hoping to slip in unnoticed; his hopes flew out the window as the door emitted a loud creak, drawing attention to himself as he slipped in.

Whispers broke out almost immediately as people stared at him in fright.

' _Compose yourself, Potter. Don't let them get to you.'_

He straightened his back and raised his chin slightly, hoping to cut a confident figure as he made his way to the Ravenclaw table.

Harry made quick eye-contact with Terry, and, ignoring the frightened looks of most of his housemates, and the taunting of Goldstein, plopped down next to his friend.

"What did I miss?" He said to Terry a little too loudly.

The bespectacled-brunette snorted in indignation. "These idiots -" he started, pointing towards the rest of his house, "think you're a mass-murderer."

He kept himself from rolling his eyes but was unable to stop a snort from escaping.

"Of course I am." He deadpanned. "What do you think."

Terry grinned. "I think that whoever took care of those Death Eaters should be approached cautiously."

He smiled - it was good to have a friend in the house.

The pair talked casually for a few minutes longer, before Dumbledore rose to address the students.

"As many of you know," he began with a smile, his blue eyes twinkling. "Hogwarts will be hosting the Durmstrang Institute and the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic this year for the revival of the Triwizard Tournament!"

The announcement caught most of the crowd off-guard, and chattering broke out across the hall.

The headmaster waited for the commotion to die down, then continued. "An impartial judge will select a student from each school to represent them in a series of individual tasks that make up the Triwizard Tournament."

Seeing that he had the attention of his audience, Dumbledore continued. "In order to be selected as the Hogwarts champion, potential students who are of age must submit their names no later than midnight on September 30th."

At the grumbling from the overwhelming number of students the headmaster smiled again; "for the other students; each school will be fielding quidditch and dueling teams to compete against each other throughout the year."

Excitement rose throughout the student body at the last proclamation, and Dumbledore prepared to conclude his speech.

"Our guests will arrive on September 21st."

* * *

Bellatrix trembled in delight as her master stepped into the room.

"Bellatrix, Lucius; please sit."

It was strange hearing her lord speak through an idiot like Crouch, she looked forward to his full revival.

The pair sat silently, though she made sure to position herself so that she could keep her wand trained on her blonde counterpart.

"How many losses?"

It was strange, how naturally her lord slipped into his post-battle cadence, even after all these years.

"Three civilians, two Bulgarian Aurors, and an Irish auror. 6 more Death Eaters were slain as well, including Malcolm Avery, Walden Macnair, and Rodolphus Lestrange."

If that buffoon thought she would show a hint of sadness in front of _him_ then the cause was truly doomed.

"The loss of my husband, my lord, presents a particular set of difficulties."

Her husband was always the more rationale of the Lestrange brothers; Rabastan was a degenerate gambler, and an alcoholic, he couldn't be trusted with a fortune.

Her lord knew that.

"I want you to bring me what I gave you, then do what you must to secure our future."

She nodded with a smile; there was no way she would let a fool like Rabastan ruin the Lestrange name.

"Are there any other obstacles we need to take care of?"

She gave a negative response, but Malfoy spoke up.

"Two things, my lord."

The Dark Lord gestured for him to continue.

"Minister Nott has become increasingly difficult to deal with."

Her master pondered his words quietly. "Give Nott space for now, he has a difficult job, and we need him in power for as long as possible."

Bellatrix frowned internally. _'We need to eliminate Nott before he betrays us.'_

Malfoy moved to continue with his second point; "also, it has become apparent that Bellatrix has her own source within Hogwarts. Severus and I have been unable to vet her spy, I'm not sure it is safe to trust their information."

She scoffed; her spy had been more valuable than that turncoat Snape, _and_ they had killed that half-breed Flitwick.

Her lord scowled at Lucius; "secrecy is the point of espionage, Lucius. Severus of all people should know that. Bellatrix will tell me who her spy is, won't you, Bellatrix?"

"In private, my lord." She said, sending a scowl towards Lucius.

"What's next?" The dark lord continued.

"Simple preparation work; we are ready to act on Bulgaria as soon as possible."

"What about Potter?"

Lucius opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it. "He killed four of our death eaters, including Macnair. He did it in defense of Greengrass."

Her master looked pleased, at what, she didn't know. "

Your son is getting close to the younger Greengrass daughter isn't he, Lucius?"

Malfoy nodded; "he is, my lord."

The heir to Slytherin continued; "Ophelia Greengrass was rumored to have left behind a collection of memories, is that right, Bellatrix."

She scowled at the thought of her mentor; "she did, my lord. Any moment she felt contained some sort of importance was copied."

' _It's why I killed her.'_

"Lucius, I want Draco to continue to get close to the younger Greengrass."

The Malfoy patriarch nodded.

Her lord dismissed them a few minutes later, and she made her way home, and to her study to pen a letter; she had enemies to neutralize.

* * *

The bell rang, but he remained unseen in the front-left corner of the room, anxious for the meeting that was about to take place.

He heard the door shut behind him; "Theodore, you got my note, I wasn't sure."

Theodore Nott bowed respectfully to his grandfather. "Grandfather."

Theo had a complicated relationship with his Cantankerous Nott. While the man had certainly brought honor to their family; he was petty and bitter; making the him difficult to get along with on the best of days.

"Your father wanted me to hand you this note."

The fourth year Slytherin took the piece of parchment marked with his families unbroke wax seal.

He read the note, a cascade of emotions playing out in his mind.

"Why?"

But he knew why, his father was supposedly the most important man in the country, and he had to cover his bases if he wanted to keep that power.

"Your father does not wish to be a puppet of Malfoy, and is encouraging you to forge your own alliances, even if they may seem unconventional."

With a nod Theo burned the letter and left the room, he had a lot to think about.

* * *

With only a moment's hesitation he tapped the third brick from the right on the fifth row of the wall adjacent to the kitchens.

The wall came alive instantly, forming into a large archway, allowing him access to a roomy passage that, if Tom Riddle was to be trusted, would lead him right outside the Slytherin common room.

Riddle's knowledge of the castle was beyond impressive.

Exiting the passage from behind a suit of armor a few moments later, Harry was surprised a minute later to be standing face to face with a brunette Daphne.

"Harry Potter." The girl said with a warmth that immediately put him at ease. "Just the person I was looking for, I'm Astoria Greengrass."

He took the offered hand, gently placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles, formally introducing himself.

The younger girl rolled her eyes. "There's no need for formalities, Harry; they ruin friendly conversation."

He had never understood what Daphne meant when she said her sister could make anybody feel special, until now.

Although short, and thin as a wisp, the younger Greengrass sister carried herself with a quiet confidence, but unlike her sister - who used her own confidence to emit an aura of power and intimidation, Astoria was using hers in a much different way.

The way her hazel eyes gazed into his, as if they were the only two people in the crowded corridor.

The way she stood; back to the rest of the hall, shoulders slightly turned his way, as if blocking out the rest of the world. giving him her full attention.

The way she seemed to truly _hear_ every word he said. It made him feel as though he was the most important thing in her world, and, in that moment – with the day he had had, that was all he needed in life. It was enough.

If Astoria Greengrass ever realized the effect she could have on people, she would be incredibly dangerous.

' _Or maybe she has realized the effect she has, and is using it to manipulate the situation?'_ He thought. Her sister would, and he had a suspicion Alfred would as well.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Astoria. Daphne talks about you constantly."

Humor danced in her hazel eyes, and she gave him an amused grin.

"You don't need to lie to me, Harry Potter." She admonished teasingly. "My sister only talks about me, or to me, for that matter, when she is worried – either about me or something else."

He began to correct her, but he couldn't, Daphne had all but shown him as much.

"I'm happy I can be that outlet for her, she puts so much stress on herself, it's nice to know she cares."

' _I need to regain control of this conversation.'_

"She is fond of you. So is your father."

Surprise flashed briefly in her eyes, but she hid it well.

Astoria bit her lip and stared at the wall behind him in a gesture reminiscent of her sister.

When she stared back into his eyes, her expression was far more serious.

"My family worries about me."

He waited for her to continue, when she didn't, he spoke up.

"Because of your affliction?"

Rather than being offended, the other girl nodded sadly.

"So, Daphne told you about it?" Astoria questioned

"Not really, just that you have one."

She considered him momentarily; "About a hundred years ago, a witch in my family broke a marriage contract with another pureblood family in France."

He listened patiently - Daphne would never share this information with him, willingly.

"It caused a scandal. At the time the Greengrass family was an 'up and comer' in British society, we were supposed to solidify our status by introducing the powerful Lestrange family to Britain. But when my great, great, great, great aunt broke that contract, the Lestrange's got mad, and placed a curse on our family that would appear randomly in witches throughout our bloodline - it affects me."

"What does it do?" He found himself asking.

For the first time Astoria lost her quiet self-confidence and looked every bit the sickly twelve-year-old she was.

"The curse makes my magic toxic to my body. If my magic becomes too strong, then my body cannot fight it and I get a severe fever and die. Eventually, it will kill me."

He felt a certain kinship with the younger girl in that moment; like him, she was making the best of an impossible situation.

"How do you block it out?" He asked. In many ways, her situation was worse than his – there was always a chance he killed Voldemort without dying.

She looked exceptionally vulnerable. "I don't, not really." She said. "It's always there."

The pair fell into a comfortable silence for several seconds.

"That's why Daphne hates the Lestrange family." He muttered more to himself.

Astoria smiled; "it's also why Bellatrix murdered my great aunt, and why Daphne doesn't like my talking to Draco."

He remembered his conversation with Alfred and reminded himself to watch the boy this year.

"It was good talking to you, Harry Potter. Thank you for saving Daphne's life."

As the girl walked away, Harry went straight to Tom Riddle's room, thoughts of changing the rooms password completely forgotten as he digested what he'd learned from the captivating Astoria Greengrass.

* * *

"Oh Daphne, let me get that!" Lily said as she removed Daphne's bag from her shoulder and guided her to a chair.

"I'm fine!" she half-snapped at her friend. _'She's not normally the type to dot on someone.'_ She thought with a frown. Still, nearly dying has that effect on some people.

It had been a strange day; outside the hushed whispers and quick glances her way, she had noticed the fearful glances the other students were shooting at Harry.

' _Idiots.'_

They couldn't comprehend the situation they had found themselves in.

' _A situation I couldn't handle.'_ She felt guilty; her inability nearly got them both killed. _'I'll have Harry talk to Tonks, make her let me join their training.'_

"What happened that night, Daph?" Lily asked softly, interrupting her thoughts.

She sighed, she had grown sick of this talk. "We were ambushed, everything happened so quickly, I'm not sure what happened."

She wouldn't tell her about the hate-filled look in Harry's eyes as he killed those men, it was none of her business.

The conversation took a more mundane tone after that as she looked around the common room, briefly catching Theodore Notts eyes, the boy seemed to be appraising her. _'What the hell was that about?'_

She rubbed her stomach absentmindedly, and let the curious glance from Nott drop, turning her attention to her sister's conversation with Draco Malfoy on the other side of the room instead.

* * *

She smiled at the beautiful snow-white owl in front of her, offering her a quick slice of ham as she retrieved the letter from her leg.

' _So, he has a girlfriend?'_ She thought to herself resolutely as Harry apologized for 'leading her on.'

' _It must be that Greengrass girl from the papers.'_ She thought to herself.

' _No matter, hard work never hurt anybody.'_ Gabriel Marie Delacour would get what she wanted in the end, she always did.

"I'm sorry Marcie." She smiled apologetically, interrupting her friend's invitation for a quick trip to the beach. "I'm not feeling so well, maybe tomorrow?"

The lie came easy to her, and her friend left her alone. She could never tell if her friends bought her little lies, she had decided whether they did or not didn't really matter – all that mattered was that they gave her privacy.

" _Treat them well and they'll eat out of you palm."_ Her sister's words were never far from her thoughts.

She excused herself a second later, telling the smart owl to meet her in the gardens.

With a _'hoot'_ the owl flew off, and Gabrielle made her way to her favorite table at Beauxbatons.

Five minutes later the veela was sipping tea, surrounded by a sea of roses, overlooking the Mediterranean.

The salty-smell of sea air helped her relax, allowing her to compose herself.

It would do her no favors to aggressively pursue the British boy, he was likely to push her away if she was too overt.

' _Better to make him want me.'_

Slowly she began to write, making sure to wish his girlfriend a speedy recovery.

Gabrielle removed a photo of herself and Harry in Italy from her bag to include with the letter.

' _See how happy we look, Harry?'_ She thought deviously as she wrote a quick inscription on the back.

With a smile, she reached into her bag a second time, this time removing a small bottle of perfume.

Spraying the air around her softly, she waved the piece of parchment through the air, capturing the smell of lavender and sea breeze in her letter.

' _I look forward to seeing you on the 21st, Harry._

 _Yours Truly,_

 _Gabrielle Delacour '_

With a smile she sent her letter off with Hedwig. She would win Harry Potter, all she needed was time.

* * *

He groaned as he made his way towards the dungeons for double potions with the Slytherins.

He _hated_ Wednesdays. While he could stomach herbology and history of magic in the morning, double potions with Snape in the afternoon was going to be a different issue.

Harry felt something solid as his shoulder collided with that of Oliver Rivers.

"Watch where you're going, Oliver." Goldstein warned from next to him; "you don't want to piss off a psychopath, you may end up dead. How many people have you killed now Potter? Five including Granger?"

From down the hall Draco Malfoy gave Goldstein an amused snort and a small smile.

' _That's interesting.'_ He thought to himself.

He felt his blood boil at the jibe, using all of his self-control to ignore the bait.

The normally friendly Oliver Rivers scowled at Harry, but said nothing, hurrying ahead to join the rest of his classmates.

The first few days had gone mostly the same; even the sixth years in his charms and transfiguration classes had been wary of him, as had those in fifth year Ancient Runes.

Ignoring the jibe, he took his seat in the middle of the dim dungeon next to Daphne.

"Listen up!" The perpetually annoyed voice of their potions master yelled, grabbing the attention of the fourth years.

"The headmaster has insisted on emphasizing partnership and communication this year." He spat, as if the idea was a personal affront.

"For the rest of the year, you will work in pre-determined pairs."

Harry was momentarily excited by the possibility of working with Daphne in another class, but that hope was dimmed almost immediately as his girlfriend was paired with Su Li.

He saw Daphne began to scrawl a few words on the corner of her parchment; _"Riddle's room, 18:30."_

He agreed with a nearly imperceptible nod of his head.

"Harry Potter and…" His head perked up a bit as he heard his name; "Theodore Nott."

Snape offered him a savage smile as Lily offered him a sympathetic look. If there was someone in their class worse than Theodore Nott, he couldn't name them.

* * *

He smiled as he saw her approach. Checking to make sure they were alone, he removed his invisibility cloak and greeted his girlfriend with a soft kiss.

He felt her smile into his lips as he ended the kiss and opened the door.

"I thought you were going to change the password?" Daphne asked.

He smiled; "I was. But I ran into your sister the other day and got distracted."

"Oh?" She responded, not the least bit surprised. "And what did you think."

"She's -," he searched for the right words, how did he describe Astoria Greengrass? "Incredible." He finished lamely.

Daphne gave him a smile. "I told you."

The truth was his conversation with Astoria had weighed heavily on his mind over the last few days. There was just _something_ about the girl that drew him in.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, pointing towards her stomach.

She offered him a grateful smile; "great, thanks to you."

He smiled; "we'll be better next time."

Daphne nodded confidently; "I want to practice with you and Tonks."

He agreed, they both needed to be able to protect themselves better.

"How's being paired with Su Li?"

Daphne's face contorted into an annoyed look. "The girl is too quiet and thinks too highly of herself. I don't think it's going to work out. How's Nott?"

Theodore Nott was also quiet, although he didn't assert himself too much as they brewed, allowing Harry to lead, the pair had managed an exceeds expectations.

"I don't think Snape is going to fail the Minister's son."

Daphne agreed. "Probably not."

They slipped into a comfortable silence as they browsed Tom Riddle's bookshelf.

"I was thinking, for runes, we enchant our room as if it were a dueling pit, so we have a place to practice."

Harry frowned; "that's more of a warding exercise."

"Yes, but the runes that go into making those wards permanent, for the most part, have their basis in fifth and sixth year material. I'm sure Vector would allow _you_ to use it as our project."

He thought about it; having their own space to practice would be invaluable.

"Fine." He smiled. "Do you want to help me change the password to the room?"

Daphne perked up in excitement; "you actually know how?"

He smiled; "of course. I was thinking we could do it this weekend."

Daphne nodded in agreement.

"How is your warding coming."

"Good." He responded without hesitation. "I'm thinking I'll have another go at the drawer." He said, pointing towards the heavily warded desk drawer.

Anger flashed across Daphne's face; "no you won't. Not now. Not after last time."

"I need to see what's in there, Daphne!" He whined.

"Even if it kills you?" She said softly.

"I think you're being a bit melodramatic." He replied, but let the topic drop, choosing instead to pick up Tom Riddle's personal notes on his hunt for the Chamber of Secrets.

The boy had been obsessed with finding Salazar Slytherin's mythical chamber, for some reason or another.

" _According to a diary written by Antonio Ravenclaw in 1233. Salazar Slytherin traded spells with Rowena Ravenclaw over a beast he had hidden in his personal chambers in 1182. None of my research points to Salazar Slytherin ever creating personal chambers; could Ravenclaw be referring to the Chamber of Secrets?"_

 _-TMR 10/15/1942_

" _Salazar Slytherin suffered from delusions of grandeur and fashioned himself as the most powerful practitioner of magic the world had ever seen. He was known to proudly be a parseltongue, carrying a snake with him wherever he went. Assuming Antonio Ravenclaw can be believed; it is my belief that the beast Slytherin hid in his chambers is either a runespoor or a basilisk."_

 _-TMR 10/19/1942_

"What are you reading Harry?"

Startled, he looked up. "What was that?"

She flashed him a pretty smile. "What are you reading?"

"Tom Riddle was obsessed with finding the Chamber of Secrets, it's kind of interesting."

The pretty blonde bit her bottom lip as if she wanted to tell him something, but let it go.

"Riddle seems pretty smart. I'm sure he probably found it."

* * *

Dumbledore tapped his fingers impatiently, waiting for the room to quiet down.

' _Ahem.'_ He cleared his throat, and a few seconds later the noise died down.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I would like to welcome you all to the newly reformed Order of the Phoenix."

A murmur burst out amongst the small crowd gathered in Grimmauld Place, and he took a moment to look around the room.

Arthur, Molly, Bill, and Charlie Weasley sat closest to him; the former two paying rapt attention. _'They'll do whatever I ask.'_ He frowned; while great hosts, Arthur and Molly lacked the talent or resources to be of any use to the cause, unfortunately.

Their children, however, had potential.

Bill had proved himself admirably at the quidditch world cup and possessed one of those rare skill-sets that was invaluable to any war effort.

While Charlie Weasley had spent the last several years working with dragon's. _'I should introduce him to Hagrid.'_ He thought with a smile, glancing at the half-giant who was talking to Sirius.

"As you all have noticed; over the last couple of years, there has been a rise in activity among death eaters who escaped justice during the last war." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in.

Moody, however, took the lull in his speech as an invitation to address the crowd.

"Between the breakout at Azkaban, the attacks in Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, and the World Cup; as well as a Minister who is, at the very least, sympathetic to Voldemort, we cannot afford to NOT be vigilant!"

The crowd didn't appear to know how to react to Mad-Eye's intense proclamation, most choosing to ignore it.

"Thank you, Alastor."

Albus took a look around the room, taking stock of the individual talents of each person.

Alastor, Bill, Kingsley, Sirius, Remus, Nymphadora, and Severus. He frowned, besides himself they had only seven competent fighters, one of whom couldn't show their allegiance in battle.

' _I'll train Bill and Nymphadora.'_ He thought to himself - they were younger and showed the most promise. Those two, along with Alastor could train the rest.

Plans were forming as most of the order left; leaving only the fighters, minus Severus. _'I'll see him later.'_ He mused. _'Maybe I can convince him to train Harry?'_ The boy had shown an inclination towards the Dark Arts, few were better suited to teach Harry than Severus Snape.

"Do you have any updates for me, Alastor?" His old friend shot him something that resembled a smile and gave Nymphadora a quick glance.

The metamorphagus, who was currently sporting shoulder length brown hair, offered him a confident smile.

"Augustus Rookwood has been associating openly as Rufus Hallett, a pureblood from the States. As Rufus, he follows a routine we can exploit."

"What sort of wards does he have around his property?" Albus asked with curiosity.

For the first time the champion duelist looked nervous; "the wards are more advanced than my rudimentary knowledge." She smiled apologetically.

He offered her a kind smile; he learned long ago that praise and kindness would get him a lot further than fear - something Tom Riddle could never understand.

"No worries, my dear. Speak with Bill, I'm confident that he will be able to provide us with more insight."

The two shared a look of agreement, and he dismissed the meeting a few minutes later, eager to get back to the castle to hear what Severus had learned.

* * *

She was curious as to where they were taking her as the pair led her through a maze of halls before stopping at a seemingly empty corridor

"We're here." Harry said confidently.

If it had been any other student, Tonks would have rolled her eyes and walked away, but since it was Harry, she took a second look.

Sure enough, about a quarter of the way down the hall and to the right was a slight shimmer. The metamorphagus tried to take a closer look but seemed to forget what she was observing.

She smiled; "an illusion with a notice me not ward, Harry? Impressive."

Daphne smiled. "Those aren't the only wards on the room, come on."

The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor followed the pair of fourth years as they led her to their hidden oasis.

As she crossed the threshold entering the room, the torches came to life and she felt a warmth spread through her body.

From next to her she noticed Daphne had a similar look on her face.

Harry smiled; "that was the new wards recognizing you."

"When did you add more wards?" The regal-looking Slytherin asked.

Her young apprentice frowned; "while you were in the hospital, I thought I'd add a few I had read about."

Tonks cast a couple of diagnostic spells on the room. "Impressive." She said.

And she meant it. When layering security wards, most experts chose to follow one of a half-dozen or so proven ward configurations. Whether it was out of ignorance, or out of arrogance, Harry Potter had created a truly unique set of wards. And while not particularly difficult to breakdown – they were creative enough, and put together in a way that, they could perplex while being able to be expanded upon.

Harry smiled. "Don't tell anyone, please."

Tonks nodded her agreement as she glanced around the sparse room.

Outside of several bookcases, a couch, a table, and a pair of desks there was nothing remarkable about the makeup of the room.

"You two need to spruce this place up a bit, it lacks romance." She said offering Harry a smirk.

The boy blushed cutely, but she let it go.

"Once Daphne improves in conjuring, we'll add furniture." The girl nodded.

"Shall we begin?"

Lightning-quick, Harry whipped out his wand, waving it in a familiar series of movements, charging a set of runes on the wall closest to the door.

"How much time do we have?" She asked.

Daphne smiled; "an hour, maybe a little more."

Tonks nodded seriously. "Then let's get to work."

Daphne was good; she thought to herself fifteen minutes later.

"Not bad Daphne!"

She said, batting away a severing charm.

"But you're relying too much on dodging."

To prove her point, Tonks shot a spell at her, forcing her to dodge to her left, then quickly hit her with a jelly-legs jinx.

"You don't need to shield or give up your attacking capabilities. You just need to accept the fact that you are going to have to deflect spells more often than you would like."

The girl rolled her eyes but nodded. Daphne wasn't the type of witch to believe she was wrong, she needed to be shown.

' _Harry's girlfriend can be a stubborn little bitch.'_ She thought.

"Alright you two, two on one, no rules, let's see how long you can last."

Septima quietly stepped into Harry and Daphne's room, and immediately felt a pleasant warmth spread through her body.

' _That's new.'_ She thought as she heard a muffled explosion.

' _They must be dueling.'_ She sighed, as the haze lifted and she noted that the pair had spent an incredible amount of time in this room since school had started a few weeks prior.

Slipping through the door, she was met by the scene of a limp-armed Nymphadora Tonks casually dancing out of the way of various curses coming from the two teenagers trading spells with her.

Seeing her, Tonks smirked in her direction before quickly neutralizing her opponents.

"Harry did you and Daphne still want to practice occlumency today?"

Harry hadn't actually said Daphne would like to practice with them, but she figured she may as well test the girl; besides, if Harry was going to eventually learn legilimency, then having a willing partner was a bonus.

"Alright you two." Tonks said, fixing her shoulder with a flick. "I'll see you after dinner tomorrow."

Septima gave the talented witch a soft smile as they exchanged greetings.

"Let's test your shields quick, shall we?"

* * *

"You are absolute shit at skipping stones." Terry commented from next to him, as his stone skipped once before sinking into the Black Lake.

From next to Harry, Lily laughed; "like this, Harry." The black-haired girl said with a smile as her stone skipped across the water.

' _12 skips? How the hell does she do that?'_

"It's not my fault you two are finding all the good stones." He countered with a whine.

"Then conjure one." Terry deadpanned.

' _Damn.'_ He thought. _'Guess I walked into that one.'_ He had been showing off his conjuration skills all year, now it was biting him in the ass.

Unable to back down, he conjured a perfectly flat rock.

Gripping the rock loosely between his index finger and his thumb, Harry squared his body and bent his knees before dropping his hand to his waist. Flicking his wrist lightly, he let go of his conjured stone.

It skipped once.

It skipped twice.

 _Splash!_

His perfectly conjured stone sank into the water.

' _What am I doing wrong.'_ He wasn't used to not being _at least_ above average, let alone being bad at anything.

Terry and Lily let out a string of laughter.

"Keep laughing! I'll remember this the next time you need help with homework, or maybe I'll forget about our study sessions."

That shut them both up, and the trio slipped into comfortable conversation.

"Delacour's coming tomorrow." Lily said somewhat vacantly.

Harry dug his hands into the soft dirt behind him and leaned back, enjoying the sun on his face.

"Mhmm."

Was his response – he had desperately wanted to avoid the topic of the beautiful girl.

"You hurt Daphne, you know."

"Come off it, Lily!" Terry defended him. "They weren't even dating at the time."

"And she kissed me, AND I told her about it the first chance I got." He jumped in to defend himself. "Besides, Daphne seemed fine."

"You told her you still want to be friends with a beautiful French veela, from an old pureblood family, who kissed you." Lily said slowly, as if he was supposed to come to some realization.

She groaned. "She feels threatened by her!" Lily screeched.

Terry immediately came to his defense. _'He's really trying to get back in my good-graces.'_

"The smartest thing Harry did was salvage a friendship!"

The brunette spoke with such a confidence, that he was momentarily taken aback.

' _Gabrielle is smart, kind, and beautiful. Why wouldn't I want to be friends with her?'_

' _She reminds me of Astoria.'_ He realized.

"Her uncle is Sebastian Delacour." At his confused look, Terry scoffed at him; "do you not pay any attention in history of magic? He is France's current representative to the International Confederation of Wizards."

Harry would have to look into that later, but he didn't see how that was important, and he said as much.

Lily sighed; "Boot is right." _'When did she start referring to Terry as Boot?'_

"Winning a war is about more than just fighting on the battlefield, you'll need strong political allies; you already have Boot."

Terry nodded.

"Having a direct connection to the ICW is the type of political clout most would kill for." For her part, Lily sounded depressed that she had to concede that point.

Terry cut in; "and her father is Gabriel Delacour."

He did a double take at the name; ' _Gabrielle's father is named Gabriel?'_ He groaned.

Taking his groan as confusion, Terry continued; "he handles the finances of the French elite.

"Be a good friend to her, Harry. If you can't win the game off the battlefield, it doesn't matter who wins on the battlefield."

* * *

The spy sat in their chambers at Hogwarts, enjoying a pot of Earl Gray before their guests arrived when a familiar tabby owl knocked on the window.

With a smile, the spy opened the window, allowing the owl entrance before removing the letter and directing her towards a water dish.

Familiar, tidy handwriting greeted the spy's eyes as they read the letter.

The orders were complex, vague, and would take time.

The spy smiled widely as they re-read the last part.

' _It is integral that Malfoy does not discover our plans._

 _Love,_

 _Bella'_

The spy inhaled deeply, enjoying her smell as a smile overcame their face.

The spy sighed as they burned the letter.

' _I have a pair of Slytherins to watch, and a head of house to avoid.'_ The spy thought, happy to have such an important task.

* * *

"Daphne, a word?"

She looked over her shoulder to be greeted by Theodore Nott.

' _What the hell does he want?' She wondered._

Alone except for the two of them, in an underused corridor, what could go wrong?

With that in mind, she fingered her wind, ready to strike at the first sign of danger.

"Of course, Theodore." She said with forced charm.

She hadn't had much interaction with Theodore Nott over the last few years, the boy mainly kept to himself; observing and studying.

Following the dark-haired boy into an abandoned room, she took a moment to show off her skill, silently cast a few privacy charms.

' _See that, Nott? Silent casting. Don't fuck with me.'_

Nott looked impressed but remained quiet.

"What did you want to talk about."

The boy looked nervous all-of-a-sudden. _'Merlin he's not going to ask me out, is he?'_ She didn't want to have to turn down the Minister's son.

"It's about Potter." She visibly relaxed her body but hardened her eyes.

"What about him?" She replied dangerously.

Her counterpart gulped.

"As you know I'm paired with him in potions."

"Get to the point, Nott. I'm not the most patient person." The boy was intimidated by her, that much was clear.

"I asked Snape to pair me with him!" He blurted out.

The proclamation caught her off guard.

"Why would you tell me that?" She understood why he did it, getting close to his master's enemy would benefit Voldemort's cause.

He frowned. "Potter is exceptionally powerful; both magically and politically. I was hoping to come to some sort of agreement between the two of us, but he's been difficult to get close to, and I was hoping for your help."

His reasoning was perfectly logical.

"Why did you come to me?" She finally asked, needing to hear him say it.

"The Prophet may only speculate about what happened with you at the world cup final, but my father knows Potter killed those men in your _defense._ "

Nott chose his words carefully, Daphne could appreciate that.

"Besides that, you are one of the most influential students in the school."

She laughed. "I doubt that." She replied confidently. "Greengrass isn't an important name."

"Yet your family sits on the Wizengamot." Nott countered.

"Outside of me, Malfoy, Boot, and Potter, you're the most influential student in this school."

"How do you figure?" She was genuinely curious as to how he had come to that conclusion.

"The first four are obvious."

Daphne conceded that point, it would be hard to argue that any of those names didn't carry tremendous influence.

"Potter controls both his vote in the Wizengamot, and influences the Black vote, not to mention his obvious power and fame." Nott stated the obvious, _again._

' _Get to the point.'_

"You're dating Potter." She wasn't surprised that they had been figured out and didn't react, much to Nott's chagrin.

"He listens to you, you can help influence his decisions." He started. "I'm not asking you to manipulate him, just ask him to meet me for a few minutes Saturday morning after breakfast."

Daphne thought about it for a second. They _would_ need all the help they could get; and they could do a hell of a lot worse than Theodore Nott as far as allies went.

"Fine." She started. "Meet us in the dungeons, next to the portrait of the fruit bowl at 8am this Saturday, and don't eat breakfast."

Nott nodded his head in agreement and left the classroom.

With a sigh, Daphne waited till he was out of sight before heading towards their room.

* * *

"Tea?" The spy offered, offering an amused smile. _'I think she'll take tea with two sugars.'_

"Yes please." Lily Moon started with a pretty smile. "With two sugars."

"Of course." The spy responded. _'These little games keep me young.'_

"Have you discovered anything new about Harry Potter?" The spy asked with curiosity.

Although it wasn't one of their orders, the spy had figured that providing the most up-to-date information on Harry Potter to Bella was of critical importance.

"Gabrielle Delacour has a thing for Harry." The girl responded vacantly. "She kissed him in Italy, Harry liked it, but told Daphne about the incident right away. Delacour and Harry have agreed to remain friends."

Lily's monotone voice echoed throughout the room.

"How does Potter _feel_ about Delacour."

The girl seemed to fight the curse for a second but fell back into a semi-sedated state.

"Harry likes her."

Lily's vague response disappointed the spy.

"Sexually?"

The young Slytherin pondered the question. "Yes."

"Good. I want you to pay special attention to Potter and Delacour, encourage their relationship, if you can. I also need you to watch Astoria and Daphne Greengrass and report back to me with anything you discover."

Moon nodded silently, and the spy willed the girl out of the room.

* * *

The room was saturated with excitement as Moody waited to begin.

Normally, the grizzled ex-auror would have quieted the room himself, but he had been waiting for this day for weeks and could understand the excitement surrounding him.

He observed the team he had assembled for tonight's mission with only a mild sense of confidence.

' _We lack experience.'_ He thought to himself; and that – more than anything – scared him. An inexperienced group was unpredictable. Unpredictability led to death.

Weasley would break down the wards, allowing them entrance. _'Hopefully.'_

Hestia would act as their expert on obliviation and the mind-arts. Albus had been clear that the target must be kept alive.

Black, Tonks, and Shacklebolt would serve as the fighters, should it come down to it. While Lupin would be observing from a tree, ready to act as a sniper if he needed to.

"As many of you know, tonight we take the fight to the enemy!" The group perked up, some with excitement, others with nervous interest.

"Last week Kingsley was called to a situation in Dover." Alastor motioned for Kingsley to continue.

"When I arrived in Dover, I met a shopkeeper who was complaining about two men who traded spells in his shop. When I was shown a picture of the suspects, I immediately recognized one as Augustus Rookwood, who has been living as 'Rufus Hallett.'"

The unmasking of his old friend as a Death Eater spy had disappointed Alastor more than he would ever admit. The loss had been a huge blow to their side.

"Tonight, we will break into Rookwood's residence and interrogate the man, we cannot harm him. It is important that he remains alive."

The proclamation was met with grumbling, but he would have none of it.

"My word is final!" He snapped irritably. He really didn't have the patience for this.

"Weasley, when we arrive in Dover, we need you to find a way past his wards."

The redhead who was sporting his customary ponytail, acknowledged his role with a slight nod, and Moody began to dole out the rest of the assignments.

The group spent the next hour preparing before apparating just outside of the village of Adisham.

Adisham had an interesting place in history.

During a severe drought - the result of a curse by an emerging dark lord - in the sixth century.

After years of failure, a wizard named Augustine successfully broke the curse, ending the drought.

Upset at his spell being broken, the dark wizard spent months trying to reapply the curse only to be defeated by Augustine.

The story became so famous that it had found its way into muggle legend.

Moody applied a quick charm to his ear.

"Can everybody hear me." He whispered, getting an affirmative from his team, he motioned for them to continue forward.

The seven of them began to make their way up a narrow dirt path towards where they knew Rookwood to be hiding.

Weasley stopped the group.

"Subtle proximity wards on the stones to the left." He whispered.

' _I didn't even notice those.'_

Moody's respect for the kid rose ever-so-slightly.

Bill cut through the proximity wards with a subtle touch, allowing the group passage before allowing them to take form once again.

The group moved much more cautiously after that, allowing Bill to take the lead as he discovered several more traps on their way to the innermost wards of the property.

Mad-Eye was nervous. Rookwood had been one of the smartest sons of a bitch he had ever met; while he wasn't talented with a wand, he specialized in secrets, and experimental knowledge, his designs revolutionized magic.

At the trial of Igor Karkaroff, it had been revealed that Voldemort used to invite Rookwood for an evening brandy several times a week to discuss ways to remove various impediments.

Karkaroff's testimony, along with that of Rookwood's, had gone a long way to convincing him that Voldemort was more than the murderous madman the ministry wanted him to be.

"This may take a while, everyone. So, make yourselves comfortable." Bill said to the group.

" _This may take a while, everyone. So, make yourselves comfortable."_

Sirius sighed. He had never been the most patient man and having to wait for a cursebreaker to take down wards was maddening.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tonks wearing a similarly annoyed look on her face, and he briefly wondered if patience was hereditary.

In front of him he watched as the ginger-haired man worked.

Curse breaking, and by extension ward-breaking, was primarily based around trial and error.

First you started with a couple general diagnostic spells. If you're talented enough you can decipher what those spells tell you and identify the ward scheme.

Assuming you can identify the ward scheme, the caster then needs to either reverse, remove, or alter the ward; that is, if you haven't passed out from exhaustion, or been found out.

The man in front of him was beginning to sweat from the effort, as his cousin stared at the man hungrily; _'this is one for the pensieve.'_

Forty-five minutes later and Weasley stopped working, a satisfied smirk resting on his sharp features.

Behind him, Sirius could see a glimmering tear in the wards.

The group quickly climbed through with Weasley sealing the wards again with a flick.

The cottage sat on a heavily wooded property. Tall trees and rolling hills surrounded the small home, leaving a number of observation points.

With a look Remus began pacing the perimeter of the house, looking for the perfect vantage point.

Several minutes later, he heard a voice in his ear.

"I'm in a tree on the property's north side, the target is in his study." Remus's voice whispered in his ear.

The rest of them split up into pairs; Bill pairing with Tonks, Hestia with Kingsley, leaving him with Mad-Eye.

The pair stopped outside the window, running a few more diagnostic charms.

"Cocky son of a bitch." His partner growled as he opened the window.

The prick hadn't even secured his windows.

They made their way quietly through the kitchen, running across Tonks and Bill near the stairs.

"The six of you are clear to the study, there doesn't appear to be any other occupants." Remus whispered.

That was all they needed.

Sirius took the lead, quietly guiding the group up the stairs and outside the study.

" _Fuck!"_ He heard his cousin yell. _'She tripped the wards.'_ He thought. _'Dammit. So much for easy.'_

"Tonks down!" Lupin screamed in their ears.

The witch complied immediately as a ball of fire zoomed over where her head had been.

The wards were attacking the group with gusto from every angle, as Hestia was forced to shield against a ball of black sludge.

"Black!" Moody yelled, catching his attention. "Neutralize Rookwood!"

He grunted in acknowledgement, twirling out of the way of several darts and barged into the study.

The older man wasn't very quick, but he was prepared.

Sirius didn't recognize a single one of his spells, forcing him to dodge instead of shield.

Sirius dipped and dived out of the way, returning fire with only stunners, hell-bent on accomplishing his mission.

After a minute of dueling, he clipped Rookwood's shoulder with a stunner, and the wards deactivated.

"Good work, Black." Moody congratulated. "Hestia, you're up." He said as he bound Rookwood to a chair.

"Tonks, Black, Weasley, Shacklebolt; search the house but make sure to return everything to its place; we're here for information only."

The team nodded their consent and dispersed, leaving Moody alone with Hestia and Rookwood.

The younger witch sported a black ponytail and a heart shaped face.

"What am I looking for, Alastor?" The woman asked softly.

"Start by looking for higher level plans; anything mentioning death eaters, known associates, foreign governments or Voldemort, then see how deep you can dig."

She nodded, and the room went quiet again as she probed the unconscious man.

Hestia pulled out suddenly, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Bellatrix! She has just led a coup of the Bulgarian Ministry, that's where Rookwood just was."

Moody frowned. "Is there anything we can do to stop it?"

Hestia looked distraught; "no."

"Anything else?"

"The Dark Lord has asked Bellatrix to retrieve something from her vault, but he doesn't know what. He suspects it has something to do with whatever 'horcruxes' are."

Moody nodded having no idea what a horcrux was, but he would pass it along to Albus.

"Is Voldemort back?"

Hestia flinched; "no, he's - he's possessed Bartemius Crouch."

Alastor digested that piece of information as the rest of the group began to return.

"Did we find anything interesting?" He asked.

Bill spoke up. "A couple of documents, but not much else. I put up some monitoring wards, so we can keep track of what he is doing."

Moody smiled; "good. Put a tracking charm on his wand, obliviate him, and let's get out of here."

As he waited outside the headmaster's office fifteen minutes later, he couldn't help but feel more alive than he had in years.

* * *

 **A/N:**

FINALLY the good guys start to fight back.

 **On Gabrielle:** I've had several PM's asking me if this will be a multi-pairing; the answer is no. This is a Harry/Daphne story. But they're 14-15 (at least right now), and Harry is being tempted by a veela with her own motives, plus her presence sets up an interesting little side-plot. Also, I'm in the early stages of planning a H/Gabrielle story and wanted to get a feel for writing her.

I'll be traveling internationally for till early June. Luckily I'll have plenty of time to write, but I probably won't be posting another update till the second week of the month at the earliest.


	12. Chapter 12

The Bulgarian Ministry had fallen overnight.

That was the headline greeting the student body on the morning of September 21st.

A small group of Death Eaters, led by Bellatrix Lestrange, had infiltrated the Bulgarian Ministry in the heart of Sofia, leading a surprisingly bloodless coup.

"They must have had inside help." Terry muttered from next to him.

Harry agreed, wondering how Bulgaria's star seeker would take the news.

While nobody was entirely sure where Durmstrang was, he did know that most of Bulgaria's magical population attended the school if they could afford to, and Krum definitely fell into that category.

The surprisingly large Viktor Krum seemed to always have a scowl on his face in pictures, and he was curious for the opportunity to observe him in person later that evening.

He caught Daphne's eyes for a second and she glanced slightly towards Nott.

The look was obvious to him by now, she had been pushing for him to branch out and meet new people, and while he had found her constant comments on the topic annoying, he had brought it upon himself.

He could hardly blame her for making breakfast plans for the pair of them and Nott for Saturday, he just wished she hadn't made a commitment until asking him first.

"How do you think the Bulgarians will react?" He asked Terry.

' _When in doubt, ask Terry.'_

The boy just shrugged; "she's not a Bulgarian, I doubt she'll get what she wants. Nobody likes a foreign invader."

Harry would disagree with that – remembering a comment he once overheard his uncle make to his cousin about Paris welcoming German invaders with open arms.

Boot browsed the paper for a few more minutes; "it looks like Nott sent Crouch as an emissary."

He frowned; _'what does Lestrange accomplish by taking over Bulgaria?'_

It didn't make sense, they had granted her exile in the country for the past year, there was no need for her to take such a risk.

He sighed and returned to his breakfast, taking the opportunity to glance around the great hall.

"What the hell is between those two?" Harry groaned as he saw Goldstein catch Malfoy's eye briefly."

"The Malfoy family just invested in his father's business, it has elevated their status."

Harry shot Terry a confused look.

"Why would he do that?"

Terry shrugged; "for the same reason they do anything - influence."

An annoyed look came across his face. "What is it with everyone trying to gain influence?"

The brunette boy gave him a perplexed look. "What do you mean?"

"Between you, Lily, and Daphne it seems like the only thing that matters in this world is who you know; shouldn't _something_ matter more than that?

Boot snorted. "You're so naive."

Harry felt his temper rising and began to formulate a comeback when Terry cut him off.

"Ideas should matter more than personal agendas or owing favors. But that's not human nature. We want what we want - how we get it doesn't matter, and legitimate channels are slow. It's much easier to get legislation through the Wizengamot if someone owes you a few favors."

"Corruption? That's the only way to get things passed?"

Terry formulated his response carefully.

"Some of it is corruption - Malfoy has been known to buy votes - but most of it is coalition. Every member of the Wizengamot is part of one. Malfoy has his, so does Dumbledore. There are some other smaller factions as well."

The fourth year Ravenclaw paused for a second to take a sip of tea.

"Coalitions are about finding a group of like-minded individuals and banding together to accomplish the goals of the coalition. You won't always agree with each other on the details, but you fight for the same goal."

He didn't like it but couldn't deny that it seemed to make the best of a difficult situation - "pragmatism." He stated bluntly. "Building a coalition you can count on is about being pragmatic."

Terry nodded his head. "Exactly."

Harry could live with being pragmatic, even if he didn't like it.

* * *

Gabrielle sipped her coffee slowly, only half paying attention to her older sister yammer on about her perceived rivals within Beauxbatons.

Despite being several hours from Hogwarts, Fleur was the picture of perfection - her flawless silver hair tied back in a perfect bun, highlighting her avian features while the Beauxbatons crest proudly adorned her breast.

Unlike her sister, Gabrielle's honey-blonde hair flowed loosely down past her breasts and to her belly-button as she relaxed in a light-blue robe - a gift from her mother for her birthday a few months earlier.

The pair were striking, even for those of veela heritage.

It was a myth that all veela were beautiful, sexual creatures, the ultimate femme fatale's.

Patrice - her cow of a cousin - was proof of that.

While most looked better than your average witch, they had minimal ability to actually control their targets.

Rather, veela have the ability to elevate their targets dopamine and norepinephrine levels on command, filling them with excitement and temporary desire.

The rest was genetics and hard work.

"Fleur!" She interrupted the older girl's ramblings.

Her sister shut her cute mouth instantly and their father's beautiful, stormy blue eyes - a trait shared by both sisters - stared questioningly into her own.

"You're the obvious choice for champion. Everyone knows that; even Mathieu doesn't truly believe himself to be your equal."

And it was true. Fleur excelled in anything that caught her fancy - much to her own chagrin.

Her sister let out a sigh and cleared any vulnerability from her face.

The confident witch eyed her cockily. "Of course, dear sister." Fleur said with a smile. "But sometimes I need the reassurance."

The sisters sat quietly for a long while, both enjoying the English countryside below their carriage before Fleur dismissed herself, leaving her to her own thoughts.

Shaking herself from her revelry, Gabrielle refilled her espresso and began the laborious process of styling her hair and getting ready for their imminent arrival.

' _Maybe just a touch of makeup?'_

She hesitated; Gabrielle Marie Delacour did not use makeup, she would not stoop to the level of the average witch.

The door behind her creaked as she was finishing her bun, leaving a strand of twirling honey on either side of her face, drawing attention to her own stormy blue eyes.

She sighed internally. _'How many times do I have to tell them?'_

Schooling her features, she adorned her face with a smile, greeting each girl with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Marcie, Amelie!" She greeted kindly, deciding to let the rude entry pass; "you both look _magnifique_!" She said, accentuating her French accent at the end just like she had practiced.

Each girl blushed lightly, and she counted it as a victory; as a personal policy - she had kept her abilities completely to herself, allowing her personality to shine through.

"And Amelie! I saw you saunter onto the carriages with much more confidence, you look absolutely incredible this year!"

The dark-haired girl with thick curly locks and violet eyes turned a darker shade of red. Amelie, she had heard, had spent the entire summer with a personal trainer, rumor had it she had a crush on Jacque, the charming fifth year quidditch captain.

If the stares her keeper was sending Amelie's way was any indication, then her hard work had paid off.

She turned to Marcie, the strawberry blonde she had literally known her entire life.

According to the registry, the pair were born a mere four minutes apart in the same hospital in Marseilles, where they had apparently enjoyed sharing a crib.

Gabrielle got a loyal best friend that day, while the Beaucourt's finally became relevant in French society.

She held the slightly older girls hands a little longer, knowing her friend relished the contact.

Beautiful Marcie; smart, charming, and loyal. Everything Fleur had been looking for in a friend her entire life, Gabrielle had always had.

The honey-blonde had always felt guilty that she hadn't ever been able to reciprocate her friends love.

"Will you be guarding my flank in this silly little tournament?"

Marcie let out a pretty laugh at the ridiculous statement.

In second year, in an attempt to impress a boy - Marcie had convinced them both to try out for the quidditch team.

While Gabrielle had made the team as a chaser, much to her own surprise, Marcie had broken the target of her affections arm with a bludger, effectively ending any chance she may have had.

That was also the day Marcie began to focus almost entirely on finance - leveraging her relationship with Gabrielle Delacour to foster a working relationship with Gabriel Delacour. A relationship her father says would pay off dividends in the future.

A future Marcie would never have realized without her help.

The trio chatted amicably as they began their descent over Scotland.

"Are you excited, Gabrielle?" Marcie began, her English coming out in a thick, French accent.

She smiled at the progress her friend had made over the past year, and with only the faintest French accent of her own replied; "Hogwarts is said to be beautiful." She said with a soft smile.

"I've heard Harry Potter is also beautiful." Marcie said, her voice containing only the slightest hint of suggestion.

She frowned - that was a confidential conversation.

Gabrielle subtly flashed her eyes from Marcie to Amelie and back at Marcie before shaking her head slightly.

To her relief, Marcie picked up on the gesture, and let the conversation turn to other topics.

' _Damn you Marcie!'_ She thought to herself as they waited to enter the great hall; her eyes landing on a head of messy black hair chatting idly to an athletically built blonde.

The attractive girl radiated a dangerous confidence as she chatted amicably with Harry and several others.

' _She reminds me of Fleur.'_ Gabrielle thought to herself with a frown as she watched those speaking to Daphne Greengrass approach with a timid caution.

The girl oozed an attractive sense of danger that she had only ever seen in her older sister.

' _Maybe I should have worn a touch of makeup?'_ She thought as she continued to study the girl.

As if she knew she was being looked at, Daphne Greengrass caught her eyes, cockily raising an eyebrow before leaning in and placing a tender kiss on her boyfriend's lips.

Oblivious to the powerplay unfolding a few meters away, Harry leaned into her happily, continuing his conversation with a pale, black-haired witch.

Returning her focus to their well-choreographed entrance, she dipped and twirled past the Hogwarts student body and into the great hall.

After a quick applause, the Hogwarts and Durmstrang contingents took their seats - she idly noticed that Durmstrang - led by Viktor Krum - was heading towards the table of the snake, not too far from a scowling Daphne Greengrass.

With a smirk, she realized that her year mates were taking their cues from her.

Gabrielle caught Fleur's eyes and flickered them towards the blue and bronze table.

As Fleur sat down, Gabrielle gathered her nerves, catching Harry's attention in the process.

With more confidence than she felt, she walked confidently towards the end of the table towards Harry and his book-wormish looking friend, and politely interrupted their light conversation.

"Is anybody sitting here?"

Harry met her eyes with a bright smile; "it's great to see you again, Gabrielle."

Terry observed the greeting from behind his glasses, taking in Gabrielle Delacour and her small group of friends.

' _I wonder how much of this she has planned out?'_ He thought to himself as the small contingent got to know each other better.

' _I wonder if Harry is aware of any of this?'_ He watched as the part veela laid her long fingers across his wrist, massaging his knuckles with a well-manicured fingertip.

Harry seemed to understand the situation more than Terry had thought; that much he was sure of as he clumsily rejected some – but not all of the other girl's advances.

Coming to a snap decision, he turned around searching out Daphne's green eyes, catching them a second later.

He let the moment pass, conveying his message to her as best he could.

When Daphne turned away a few seconds later, he returned his attention to where it belonged; the enchanting Marcie Beaucourt, who was finishing up a wonderful story about her summer in Palma.

* * *

He enjoyed another link of sausage as he eyed the couple across from him nervously.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Lord Potter."

The boy in question, predictably, rolled his eyes. "I'm not a Lord, Nott, and neither are you."

Potter's response was neither firm nor relaxed.

Theodore Nott would take that.

He had been planning for this meeting all week and had thought he had been prepared.

Then Bellatrix Lestrange took down a foreign government and all of a sudden, his father was under added scrutiny.

Octavius Nott had no intentions of being a puppet in the Dark Lord's quest for power.

"What do you want, Theodore?"

Potters voice was still cautious, but contained a slight warmth to it, causing him to relax slightly.

For days he had rehearsed this moment; he had planned on slowly easing into the conversation, allowing the three of them to get to know each other over breakfast before getting to the point.

It's what his father would have done.

But in that moment, Theodore took a chance and followed his gut.

"Between the four of us in this room, we have direct influence over four of the twenty-eight votes in the Wizengamot. If we recruit your friend Boot, that gives us five votes and direct access to both the Chief Warlock and the Minister of Magic."

Greengrass was the first to interrupt him; "what's your point, Nott? We are all fourth years at Hogwarts, none of us attend meetings. Like I told you a few days ago, you overestimate our power."

Daphne Greengrass intimidated him when she held a wand in her hand; but in a battle of wits over breakfast, he was confident in his own abilities - at least against Greengrass.

"Your father obviously knows and approves of your relationship with Potter; he will at least listen to what Potter has to say, Potter, in turn, can control his own proxy while whispering in his godfather's ear; let's not forget that Black nominated Boot and spurred Dumbledore publicly; he's clearly willing to think for himself."

It was Harry who spoke up.

"My godfather votes my proxy with very little input from me, I tend to focus on school. And while Sirius, and to a much lesser extent Alfred, will entertain my input, they are both very independent men. If you're goal is to control the government through a Hogwarts coalition then you've wasted my time."

Harry was blunt and using a mocking tone.

He was clearly losing this battle.

' _Should have stuck with the plan, Theo!'_ He admonished himself before taking a bite of his omelet.

"Of course not. But between us we have enough eyes and ears across the world that exchanging information could be greatly beneficial."

The couple exchanged a look before Daphne spoke up.

"How do we know you don't support Voldemort?"

He refused to flinch at the name.

"You only have the word of me and my father."

The pair scowled, but he just smiled.

"How about some information then?"

He had their attention, and he knew just what to say to draw Daphne in.

"Bellatrix Lestrange has a spy in Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy, and in turn Draco, is desperate to discover who it is."

A cascade of emotions passed over the pretty face of Daphne Greengrass in that moment; disbelief, confusion, anger, and hatred before finally settling on a deadly calm.

"And how do you know this?"

"My father told me." He answered honestly. "He tells me lots of things."

Harry appraised him.

"That means nothing without proof, Nott."

Theo took a sip of tea; "the spy killed Flitwick and has been feeding information about _you_ to Bellatrix Lestrange and the other Death Eaters hell-bent on seeing the Dark Lord return."

Harry and Daphne shared a silent conversation before Harry turned his attention back to him.

A frown passed over Potter, and he sighed; "watch Malfoy, and anyone else you may think supports Voldemort in your house. We'll meet here again next Saturday."

* * *

"Antonin!" She screamed over a stack of parchment as she massaged her temples.

It had been three days since her small group of compatriots had taken over the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic, and she was starting to believe that the cons outweighed the pros.

But orders were orders.

The sallow, clean-cut man appeared in her office several seconds later.

"Yes, minister." The bastard greeted sarcastically.

She let out a frustrated growl but pushed forward.

"How are Sykoran and Trebsky taking our proposals?"

The younger man frowned; "it's _Sykora_ and _Trovsky"_ and they'll live with them, for now; but don't expect there to be any long-term support on their end."

"We'll see about that." She said more to herself as she knocked over her tea kettle.

' _Shit.'_

"PETRA!" She yelled.

Several seconds later a frightened looking young girl with black hair entered her office timidly carrying a new tea kettle.

She didn't miss the hungry look Antonin gave her, and for a brief second, she pitied the girls fate.

' _Men.'_ She thought with disgust.

"Well, Antonin. We'll have to have them sit down with our lord when he is back to his old health."

Dolohov smiled cruelly, and despite herself she shuttered.

Antonin Dolohov was as fanatical and cruel as she was, but Azkaban had robbed him of his sanity; making him unhinged and unpredictable.

Once upon a time the handsome man had made a terrific lover; but that was before the insanity.

"Is he there?" She added suddenly, changing the topic.

The man pursed his lips into something resembling a smile; "he should be."

With a nod of her head and a cruel smile, she disappeared from her office with a _*pop*_ reappearing at the south end of Georgi Rakovski Street.

She peered into the dingy, unnamed bar and saw her brother-in-law sitting at his usual place, several cards in one hand, a fresh drink in the other.

' _Disgusting.'_ She thought to herself.

Of the two brothers, Rodolphus had always been the smart one; adapt at politicking and investing - the man had fashioned himself as a younger Lucius.

With him gone there was nothing stopping Rabastan from pissing away the Lestrange fortune.

' _And we can't have that.'_

She twisted her face into a cruel smile and cast a disillusionment charm on herself, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

She didn't have to wait long.

Barely a quarter of an hour later, Rabastan stood up, placing both arms on the wall of the bar to steady himself as he did so.

' _He deserves a harsher death than he'll get.'_

She watched patiently as the drunken man made his way to the washroom in the corner.

Silently she froze a puddle of liquid outside the door, hoping for the best.

Bellatrix watched patiently as her husband's brother staggered closer to the washroom; stopping periodically to yell at various patrons.

' _This isn't going to work without some help.'_ She sighed to herself. Bellatrix Lestrange did not like it when her plans didn't work out as planned.

' _Time for plan b.'_

Bellatrix raised her wand again, hitting Rabastan with an imperius curse.

The man fought briefly, but his inebriated state didn't give him the mental capacity needed to throw her off.

She guided the man outside with ease, leading him into an alley.

' _Why not?'_

She thought to herself, removing her disillusionment charm while simultaneously sobering Rabastan up and petrifying him.

As he fell to the ground she removed a silver dagger that had been gifted to her by Count Alaric.

In that moment she saw a flash of realization, followed by terror cross her victims face.

The combination of emotions turned her on.

With a cruel smile she slowly moved the sharp silver across Rabastan's femoral artery, watching the dark red blood flow from the wound.

' _Maybe I should give him to Marcel?'_ She thought for a second.

The old necromancer would undoubtedly appreciate the gift, but he had more important things to work on.

' _Best not to distract him.'_

Deciding to stick to her plan, Bellatrix Lestrange casually left her brother-in-law to die alone in a dark alley.

* * *

She let out a deep sigh as she watched the students hustle around Hogsmeade, trying to fit in as much as they could in their final hour in the little town outside of Hogwarts.

"At least it's warm out." Septima said to herself as she checked her watch one more time.

' _45 minutes. 45 minutes and I'll have an hour to get ready.'_

She frowned - normally the runes professor needed at least 90 minutes to make herself presentable, but tonight she'd have to impress Sirius with only an hour to spare.

"Excuse me." A delicate, French voice said from behind her.

Turning on her heel, the brunette was greeted by a beautiful French woman with long, silver-blonde hair.

' _Must be that Delacour girls sister.'_

She smiled warmly at the small group of French witches, paying attention to how they all seemed to hover around the beauty in front of her.

She offered the girl a wide-smile; "how can I help you."

The once confident younger witch broke eye contact, choosing to observe the scene behind her instead of looking at her directly.

"We noticed you are a Hogwarts professor, and we were hoping you could direct us back to the castle."

As if on autopilot she spit out directions; more interested in the pair of redheads exiting Zonko's with several loaded bags. One of them caught her eye, offering her an exaggerated wink, causing her to nearly roll her own.

' _Those two will never learn.'_ She thought with an amused smile.

Just that week the young professor had caught the pair setting a trap for anyone walking into the Great Hall - confiscating a large amount of contraband in the process.

Finished with her explanation, she turned her attention back to the girl in front of her, who had been left alone by her friends, and was now eying her curiously.

"You are the head of Ravenclaw House, yes?"

Following her gut, Septima offered the girl her hand. "Professor Septima Vector."

"Fleur Delacour." The younger witch replied.

"What is it you want to know about my house, Miss Delacour?"

She blushed prettily, and Septima offered her a coy smile, but said nothing.

"Harry Potter is in that house, yes?"

She gave Delacour an appraising look.

' _Don't tell me she's interested in Harry as well?'_

"Harry Potter is one of my students, yes."

The shorter girl fidgeted with her fingers for a second.

"Is he dangerous? I've heard rumors that he is dangerous."

Septima took a minute to formulate a response, her gaze drifting to a hushed conversation between Draco Malfoy and Anthony Goldstein.

' _Interesting.'_ She thought to herself, vowing to keep a closer eye on the pair.

Taking her silence as anger, Fleur quickly added; "it's just that we have all read the Daily Prophet, and we know he was a dueling champion last year and is in advanced classes. My sister is interested in him, and I need to know if I should be worried."

"Oh yes, Harry Potter is likely the most dangerous _student_ in the school." She added truthfully; between daily lessons with Tonks, and his continued practice with Daphne, there was no doubt in Septima Vectors mind that Harry Potter was a deadly young man.

"But you don't have to worry about your sister. He's harmless as long as you're not hurling spells at him or his friends."

Her response seemed to placate the girl, and Septima barely noticed when the she silently walked off towards the castle. Her eyes were still on the pair of students in front of her, whispering quietly about something or another.

Knowing what she must do, she turned on her heel and followed the swaying hips of Fleur Delacour back to the castle. There were some things more important than guarding Hogsmeade.

* * *

He stood up, perhaps a little too quickly out of nervousness, straightening his simple, yet elegant back dress robes out of habit as he entered the formal dining room.

"You look…" His breath hitched as he took in the angel in front of him.

' _Did she know?'_ He thought to himself as he drank in what his girlfriend was wearing.

Septima had gone all-out in a form-fitting violet gown adorned with small diamonds along the collar, accenting her body in all the right places.

"...radiant." He finished breathlessly with a slight smile.

Septima responded with a shy smile of her own as she twirled her thick, brown hair on a fingertip.

"You don't look so bad yourself, Sirius Black." She said softly as he helped her take a seat.

"Lumpy!" The head of House Black called out politely, summoning a healthy-looking elf in a fine uniform.

In a moment of wisdom, he had decided against a grandiose night on the town, preferring instead to order in from one of Whisper Alley's premier restaurants.

"A bottle of Domaine Leroy Richebourg Grand Cru 1949, please."

' _I hope Moony knows his wines.'_ He thought nervously.

His girlfriend raised a well-manicured eyebrow at him, shooting him a look of faux surprise.

"Sirius Black when did you become so cultured?"

He was saved from answering as Lumpy chose that second to return with the full-bodied Pinot Noir, pouring them each a generous glass before quietly disappearing.

Seeming to sense his nervousness, Septima kept the conversation light as they enjoyed their salad, finishing off their first bottle of wine before ordering a bottle of Cheval Blanc 1947 St-Emilion to pair with the main course.

It was hard for him to focus as he toyed with the box sitting absentmindedly in his pocket.

It had taken him 4 trips to Gringotts, in three countries before he had been able to find the perfect ring sitting in a vault in Belgium.

' _When do I do it?'_ He thought nervously to himself as he began to sip on his third glass of wine.

He thought back to what James had said after his own, drunken proposal had almost gone off the rails.

" _Make sure you can annunciate without slurring."_ His friend had warned him.

He frowned and subtly pushed his glass of wine to the corner. At the time he had found James's advice to be hilarious, some fifteen years later he had come to see them as prophetic.

' _Fuck it.'_ He thought to himself. _'It's now or never.'_

He smiled softly at Septima Vector, slowly removing the box from his pocket and getting down on one knee.

He swore Septima was smirking in amusement at his nervousness as she quietly stood up.

"Septima Ann Vector." He said, slowly opening the box to reveal a single sapphire surrounded by a smattering of diamonds on a white-gold band.

"Will you marry me?" He rushed the last part, knowing if he said it too slow the words may never come out.

For an agonizingly slow moment Septima stood their smiling at him.

"Of course, Sirius Orion Black. It's about time."

Sirius exhaled heavily, placing the ring on his fiancée's finger before catching her with a passionate kiss as she led him out of the dining room.

* * *

"Hmm?" He sighed, his eyes still shut as he rested his head in Daphne's lap.

The couple was spending an enjoyable Saturday afternoon watching a pickup quidditch game.

Harry felt her fingers run through his untamed black hair as she repeated herself.

"I said, it's amazing how quidditch brings people together."

She smelt of roses and sweat as he slowly opened his eyes, taking a moment to watch Fred Weasley swat a bludger away from Viktor Krum.

He shrugged; "none of our differences matter when it comes to team competition." Harry agreed, not bothering to try and sit up.

He was sore and tired - the result of the daunting schedule he had been sticking to since the beginning of the year.

Daphne gazed down at him with a smile, the sun shimmering off her white-blonde locks, causing him to squint as he tried to look into her eyes.

"When do we learn who's on Hogwarts dueling team?" Daphne asked as she continued to pet his hair as if he were a dog.

He shut his eyes again, a small smile gracing his lips.

"Septima told me we would find out before the champions were announced."

The couple went silent for a moment, taking the time to enjoy each other's company as Katie Bell slipped a bludger past the French Keeper.

Both he and Daphne had been operating under the assumption that they would be chosen to represent Hogwarts fourth year students.

"Do you think there is anyone at Durmstrang of Beauxbatons who can challenge us?"

He frowned internally - Daphne tended to _assume_ she was the best.

"I'm sure they have plenty of competent duelers." He countered.

Sitting up slowly, Harry caught site of a laughing Terry Boot with his arm around an attractive French witch he knew as Gabrielle's friend Marcie.

Watching them closer, he saw the strawberry blonde point to a corner of the pitch where Gabrielle stood with her broom, ready to sub in as a chaser for one of the two teams.

From the corner of his eye he saw Daphne's eye twitch slightly as she caught site of the French veela. Although the blonde witch would never admit it, he had noticed how much she seemed to dislike his beautiful French friend - and appreciated that she seemed to trust him – at least to the extent where he was able to have a conversation with Gabrielle without having to worry.

' _For now.'_ He thought to himself.

"Come on." He said, suddenly standing up and offering his girlfriend his hand.

The blonde witch gave him a questioning look but followed him out of the quidditch stands anyways.

Ducking behind the stands, he quickly cast a disillusionment charm on the both of them.

"What are we doing?" Daphne asked in curiosity.

"You'll see." He said, grabbing her soft hand and leading her away from the quidditch pitch towards Hogsmeade.

"We're going to Hogsmeade?" She exclaimed, excitement evident in her voice at the thought of breaking up the monotony.

"You'll see." He said, smirking from beneath his disillusionment charm.

The truth was, Harry had no idea what they were doing, or where they were going - he just knew that they needed a few hours away from the castle, and he had the means to make that happen.

The pair walked hand-in-hand along the winding path for several minutes, stopping in front of the Shrieking Shack.

"What are we doing?" Daphne asked as she dispelled their disillusionment charm.

"I thought we could escape for a few hours."

She offered him a brilliant smile as he wrapped her in a tight hug, apparating them away a second later with a soft _*pop.*_

The couple re-appeared a half-second later outside of the small cafe he and Sirius regularly ate at in Whisper Alley.

"I figured we could grab some lunch and wander around for a bit."

She pulled him close, giving him a quick peck on the lips through her smile.

"I'd like that."

The couple quickly grabbed a table and placed their order with a waiter who eyed them suspiciously but said nothing about the presence of two fourth-year Hogwarts students randomly appearing at his restaurant on an October Saturday.

"Who do you think the champions will be?" He asked Daphne - the girl was much more observant than he was.

She chewed a bite of her salad slowly before wiping a splatter of ranch dressing from the side of her mouth.

"Durmstrang will be Krum or Petr Federov." She said speculatively.

"Krum?" He questioned - the man was a brilliant Seeker but didn't seem all that studious.

She shrugged. "It depends on what Karkaroff thinks will be best for his school - winning or receiving positive publicity."

While he knew nothing about Federov, he _did_ know that Durmstrang would receive a lot more coverage with international quidditch superstar Viktor Krum as their champion.

"Beauxbatons champion will be Fleur Delacour." Daphne said with confidence.

"Why?" He asked, more curious as to what Daphne knew than worried about the possibly sensitive topic.

"She's brilliant. At everything." His girlfriend replied a tinge of respect lacing her voice. "She's a prodigy when it comes to charms, and the French media would consider it a failure if she _didn't_ win. She has more pressure on her than just about anyone."

Harry took a bite of his sandwich instead of responding, allowing his girlfriend to continue uninterrupted.

"Our champion could be anyone - but I'd wager it being either Cedric Diggory or Angelina Johnson."

Harry thought about those two names for a moment; both were top of their class, champion duelers, and respectable quidditch players.

Despite that the possibility of either one of them representing Hogwarts left him severely underwhelmed.

"I'd be a better choice than either of those two." He responded confidently.

Daphne favored him with another smile, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "You'd win the tournament outright, Harry. I have no doubt about that."

The praise made him smile, and he couldn't help but be amazed at how far they had come.

Thinking back to something she had said to him in their second year, he smiled.

"I'm just glad I became a worthy opponent for you."

The couple enjoyed the rest of their lunch exchanging meaningless banter before he paid the bill and took off towards Monument Park.

"Let's stop here!" Daphne said excitedly a few blocks later, pulling him into a cramped clothing store.

Various mannequins showed off a number of gowns and expensive-looking dress robes that Madam Turney had displayed in her tiny shop.

"Madam Turney is the best seamstress in Britain!" She said with an uncharacteristically girlish squeal.

"Why thank you, my dear."

The pair spun around to be greeted by a middle-aged witch with reddish-gray hair.

Not entirely sure what separated Turney from Malkin, Harry decided to take the safe route and agree with his girlfriend; "but why are we here?"

Daphne smiled at him sweetly; "as long as we're hear I figured now would be the perfect time to have our robes made for the Yule Ball."

He was pleasantly surprised Daphne had brought the ball up - saving him from thinking of an appropriate way to ask her to be his date.

Relief must've shown on his face, because both woman laughed.

The trio chatted amicably as various instruments took their measurements and Daphne picked out their material, motioning for him to pay the lady upon completion.

"I will send these up to Hogwarts in a few days, my dear." Turney said to Daphne with a fond smile. "Please tell Victoria that we must grab drinks again sometime soon, it's been too long."

His girlfriend smiled, and in a rare display of affection offered the seamstress a brief hug.

"I will, Matilda."

Walking out of the shop he noticed the sun was beginning to sink behind the trees of Monument Park.

"How do you know Madam Turney?" He asked as they began to walk back towards the apparition point.

"She went to school with my grandmother." Daphne said with a sad smile; "she used to babysit my mother as a child - I've known her my whole life."

They walked in a slow silence for several minutes, not wanting the impromptu date to end as they approached the cafe they had lunch at, both satisfied with the way they spent their Saturday.

* * *

Marcel DuPont hummed softly to himself as he made his way through the heavy Saturday morning crowd.

Taking a left onto Las Ramblas, the elder necromancer picked up his pace.

' _It wouldn't do me any good to keep Riddle waiting.'_

The French wizard hung another left, making his way through the crowded muggle market, as he approached the back, he dipped into a small butcher shop, feeling a warmth pass through his body as he did so.

Heading through the double-doors at the back of the shop, he removed his wand, quickly undoing the transfiguration to his robes.

"Marcel."

The cold voice came from someone unseen in the corner, and the old wizard took a second to orientate himself before shifting his gaze.

"Voldemort." He chanced, daring to use the Dark Lords taken name.

From the corner the man undid his disillusionment charm, and Marcel took a moment to evaluate the man in front of him.

Sallow skin clung to a sickly figure, the hosts hazel eyes contained large specs of red, while a black robe hung loosely off his body.

"Your host is dying." He pointed out the obvious, hoping the Dark Lord would forgo the small talk and get to the point.

"Yes." A bored voice responded. "That's why you're here."

Marcel DuPont exhaled and conjured himself a comfortable looking chair.

"But why here?"

"Catalonia is beautiful this time of year." Was the dark lord's bored response. "And I need your advice." Riddle said, ignoring his question about geography.

He raised a grey eyebrow at that; the man hadn't asked for his advice since he was still known as Tom Riddle.

The wise, old necromancer let a small smile grace his lips; "is this about restoring your body?"

The face of Bartemius Crouch frowned; Voldemort hated asking for advice, and he really hated being asked the obvious.

"Stop asking the obvious, Marcel, or I'll kill you myself." The voice was more tired than threatening, they both knew that in his current state the dark lord couldn't touch him.

"But yes, I admit horcruxes fall into your area of expertise."

DuPont contemplated his next words carefully; "I assume you already have the necessary supplies to complete the ritual?"

"Blood of the enemy," he knew, Voldemort would have to acquire in the moment, but the rest could be acquired ahead of time.

"It has."

"Then what is your question?"

The ornery dark lord eyed him harshly for a few seconds, before seemingly swallowing his pride.

' _If I ever need a patronus…'_

"I lack humanity in my current state." Voldemort said bluntly. "I wish to know what I can do to regain a portion of it."

They both knew that creating a horcrux robbed one of some of their humanity, lord knows how many Tom Riddle ended up creating.

For years Marcel had regretted teaching his student the art of necromancy, did he really want to teach him a little more?

He could end it, right now, he knew. Two simple words would rid the world of this horcrux.

' _But at what personal cost?'_

"Horcruxes, by nature, seek out their like parts. A splintered soul desperately wants to become whole. I would recommend re-introducing your current soul to its counterparts."

Crouch eyed him for a long moment; "that would eliminate my redundancies, yes?"

It was true, once re-joined a soul could not be split again, he would be making himself mortal once more.

"It would..." he started, slowly. "But you would be closest to your best self. A horcrux can only provide you with a fraction of your natural power. The more pieces you re-introduce, the stronger you become, the more human you become."

He chastised himself for falling into this old argument, he knew all-too-well Tom Riddle's thoughts in regard to humanity.

After his debates with a young Riddle, he had come to realize that it was _life_ not _death_ he was obsessed with. Mapping the soul and pushing life to its limits had become his passion.

Riddle had also been obsessed with life, but he had been willing to make sacrifices that would allow him to cling to it at any cost.

"Yes." Voldemort started with a smile that looked foreign even on Crouch's face. "It took me decades, but I see the wisdom in your words."

"Will you heed my advice?"

Voldemort thought quietly for a few moments; "I believe you speak the truth, Marcel."

Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Marcel slowly stood up.

"I wish you all the best, my friend."

Grabbing the galleon in his pocket, Marcel felt the familiar tug at his navel, and like that - he was gone.

* * *

"Not bad, William." The elderly man complimented from next to the young cursebreaker.

Nearly 50 meters away sat a dummy with a small hole in its chest, victim of an unseen piercing curse.

"Let's try again."

Bill Weasley gave his former headmaster a determined nod, taking a second to wipe the sweat from his brow, he took a deep breath, and began again.

Albus watched as one of the Orders most effective leaders took a deep breath, and with a soft whisper and a slight flick of his wrist, unleashed a steady flow of color from his wand, missing the dummy by a few centimeters.

He hummed softly to himself, catching the younger man's attention.

"I'm sorry, headmaster." The young man next to him muttered in frustration.

Albus Dumbledore waved off Weasley's concerns and slipped into teacher mode.

"It's quite alright, my boy. Magic, by nature, gets weaker with distance."

The elderly wizard lived for these increasingly rare moments where he could truly impact a young person's life. Once upon a time he had pursued a career in teaching for just these moments.

But that was six decades and two wars ago.

"While your wand motion is concise, you're still pushing out too much magic at the start of the spell, causing it to dissipate much quicker than we would like. The key is to relax, clear your mind, and let your magic flow in a narrow, controlled, manner."

To demonstrate he needlessly took a deep, calming breath, calling his magic to his fingertips, and, in one concise motion the headmaster flicked his wand and whispered _'preforo.'_

Dumbledore smiled as he felt Bill Weasley's intense gaze watch him perform the difficult feat - it was one thing to be able to perform a spell, it was another act completely to land a spell on an enemy from a distance. The act took control, power, and practice – very few had the patience to learn such a feat.

"Would you like to get back to dueling?" Albus asked, knowing the other man's answer before the question left his lips.

"No." Was the red-heads determined reply. "If I need to teach this, I need to be able to perform at will."

Albus couldn't help himself - he beamed. It was rare to find such a talented, determined young man - and while Mr. Potter may fit that bill, William would be the man to lead the Order to victory.

' _Nymphadora fits that description as well.'_ He reminded himself as Bill's piercing curse successfully hit the mark.

He smiled a nervous smile as he thought about the pair of wizards he had chosen to lead the light through such troubled times, cautiously optimistic that the Order may survive the upcoming war.

 **Scene**

" _Tempus"_ he muttered to himself, sighing as he saw that he still had another fifty minutes of guard duty before he could drag himself to bed.

' _Idiotic tournament.'_ Severus Snape thought with a sneer.

Between his duties as a professor _and_ his other duties he had questioned the headmaster on the necessity of having him take shifts guarding an ancient relic.

' _This is what I get for speculating that Potter could be entered into the tournament.'_ He chastised himself, vowing to take it out on the brat in class the next morning.

A few meters away the bronze cup exuded an ethereal blue flame that seemed to flicker in the dark hall.

The potions professor had kept guard over the goblet for the last several hours, watching with amusement as several underage students probed the goblet of fire for weakness.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a slight creak from near the entrance.

' _That's odd.'_ He thought, his wand in his hand immediately.

Most of the students chose to examine the goblet before curfew, not at a quarter past three in the morning.

He observed the entrance quietly, trying to catch a glimpse of the student, seeing none, Severus relaxed slightly.

' _You're beginning to become as paranoid as Moody.'_ He thought with a grimace as he began to holster his wand.

Light bounced off an invisible barrier some ten meters in front of him, and his senses were back on high alert as he fired a wide-area stunner towards the disillusioned intruder.

A silver shield absorbed his spell, as his invisible opponent returned fire with a familiar green curse.

His beady, black eyes widened slightly as he stepped out of the way of the killing curse, his wand already in motion.

' _Ignem Aestifer, Glacius Sagitto, Avada Kedavra!'_ Snape countered immediately, putting his opponent on the defensive.

His opponent pirouetted gracefully, dodging each of his spells with ease before returning fire.

The potions professor batted away the blood-boiler and responded by conjuring several hundred wasps, directing them towards the far end of the great hall.

He heard a high-pitched hiss before the wasps exploded in a ball of fire as he heard a pair of feet retreating through the halls.

' _My opponents female.'_ He realized with surprise before taking chase after the imposter who was shooting to kill.

The footsteps began to die down as he glanced around the empty corridor.

His eyes fell on a half-open statue twenty meters ahead of him, revealing a narrow passage and a winding set of stairs.

Footsteps echoed across the floor as his enemy tried to escape.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_ He shouted, hoping that the narrow stairwell would leave the imposter no room to dodge.

A marble shield sprung into place not too far above him, absorbing his killing curse.

His opponent countered quickly with a flesh peeling curse, forcing the pale man to duck before he returned fire with a bone breaker.

His spell must have found its mark as his opponent let out a yelp of pain, causing their disillusionment charm to drop.

Standing before him was a vaguely familiar figure in black robes concealing her face with a mask.

With a sneer she hurled a metal orb at him.

The orb hit the ground with a loud explosion, disorienting Snape and leaving the entire passageway covered in a thick, black powder.

Snape continued slowly upwards, hoping to catch up with his injured adversary - but when he got to the end of the passage, she was already gone.

* * *

The door to his office creaked open and he looked up from the documents in front of him with a smile.

"Good morning, Harry." He greeted with his usual cheer.

Albus Dumbledore had always enjoyed his mornings; it had saddened him to see the younger generations sleep through theirs.

The young Ravenclaw returned his greeting with a smile while taking his time to examine his office a little more thoroughly.

The headmaster allowed Harry to take his time examining some of the books and knick-knacks in his possession. Albus had always felt you could learn more about a person through observation than interrogation.

"What is this, sir?" Harry asked in a polite tone, his emerald eyes gleaming in curiosity.

' _It's a shame we don't have more time.'_ He thought with a frown; the young man in front of him had the potential for greatness and given a few decades to hone his skills he could become the adversary Tom had always desired.

"That, my boy, is one of Merlin's staves; brought to this school by Roland Ravenclaw shortly after his sister opened this school."

The boy ran his long fingers across the legendary artefacts jagged length, pausing to shutter in pleasure as he touched the milk-white orb near the top of the staff.

"Does it have any magical significance? Or is its value purely historical?"

' _Such a well-thought-out question!'_ A genuine smile tugged at the ancient warlocks lips.

"What do you think?"

Harry Potter thought for a second before drawing his wand with a flick of the wrist.

"Do you mind?"

Dumbledore merely smiled before motioning for his student to continue.

' _Impressive.'_ He thought as the boy silently cast several of the more advanced diagnostic charms.

Several minutes later Harry gave a barely perceptible nod of his head, as though a long-held theory had just been confirmed, and with a smirk the young man turned back to him.

"I wonder if Merlin thought making this staff was worth the effort?"

Amusement twinkled in his eyes as he thought back to Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts; his uncertainty and desperation to be liked contrasting with the calm, confident young man that other's gravitated to today.

"Your father asked a very similar question during his seventh year, and I'll tell you the same thing I told him."

He had the boys' full attention now, his intense gaze stared unblinking into his own eyes.

"Merlin, like all warlocks, was constrained only by the limited knowledge of his time. The enchantments and protections on that staff are of his own creation and considered to be some of his greatest achievements. Had he been alive today, it is likely that Merlin - like myself - would still be striving towards unraveling the mysteries of magic."

Harry seemed to be satisfied with the answer, so he moved on to the point of the meeting.

"Thank you for meeting with me so early, Harry."

The Ravenclaw waved him off; "it's not an issue, headmaster, I'm an early riser."

He eyed the boy thoughtfully as he considered how to broach the next topic.

"A few hours ago, someone tried to illegally enter a student into the tournament; thankfully Professor Snape was able to stop them."

He and Severus had spent a lot of time discussing the previous night's events; considering the sophistication and skill of the intruder they had both determined that Voldemort wished for Harry to compete in the tournament - for whatever reason.

"It is our belief that someone wished to illegally enter your name into the goblet."

"It wasn't me!" The young man blurted out immediately, losing his composure in the process. "My focus is on winning the dueling tournament."

In his desperate response Harry forgot to keep his occlumency shields in place, and Albus was pleased to see the boy was telling the truth.

"Never worry, my boy, we never felt as though you wanted to be a champion, but we did want to make you aware of this development."

Harry appeared to regain his composure upon hearing his words.

"What now?"

He pondered the question for a moment.

' _What now?'_

Did he tell Harry about horcruxes and plans for the future? Or did he just make the offer Severus had begrudgingly agreed to.

With a slight hesitation, he went with the later.

"You are incredibly gifted with a wand, Harry."

The boy didn't react to the praise.

' _He knows he is.'_ He thought with a smirk.

"Between your work with Nymphadora, Miss Greengrass, Miss Moon, and Mister Boot you have easily outpaced even my most lofty expectations for you."

He _did_ blush slightly at that.

"After speaking with Severus, we both agree that on Monday and Wednesday evenings you will skip your practice with Nymphadora, and report to the dungeons instead."

Harry frowned; "he hates me, sir. Why would I agree to deal with his immaturity more than is necessary?"

' _A very mature observation of his own.'_

"Severus is the most gifted practitioner of magic in this castle outside of myself. He, more than anyone, can push you further than you thought possible."

Harry paused for several seconds, contemplating what he was just told.

"I'll do it." He said with a frown. "But if he continues with his petty insults then I will end our training; he has no right to treat me the way he does."

 **A/N:** This should have been out last week, and it should also be a scene or two longer, but I'm fairly sick and don't have the energy to finish it up properly, so this will have to do.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: This is JKR's world, I'm just playing with it.**

 **A/N: If you read this chapter before 8:05 PM EST on 7/2/18 please re-read the last scene, that is all that has changed.**

He stepped out of the floo and into the dingy, dimly lit room, pushing his way to the door.

Entering into the main room of 'The Leaky Cauldron' he nearly knocked over a portly hag sporting a shirt with a fierce, animated falcon; causing her to spill her drink. She shot him a cross look, mumbling drunkenly under her breath.

Alfred hardly paid her any mind as he made his way through the throngs of quidditch fans - still in revelry stemming from Falmouth's defeat of Kestrel earlier in the evening - and towards the entrance to Diagon Alley on the pubs east wall.

Paying special attention to the package at his waist, he stepped into the elements.

Wind howled through the air as rain splattered off his cloak. He shivered in the freezing, November rain as somewhere not too far off a flash of lightning permeated the midnight sky. The loud roar of thunder a second later shook the buildings on either side of the alley.

Lord Greengrass was uncommonly unpresentable as he cantered through the empty, cobblestone streets- absent were the well-tailored robes, styled blonde hair, and charmed cloaks that normally adorned his sturdy figure. He didn't dare to dawdle, sometimes there were more important things in life.

As he made his way towards the beautiful marbled building at the end of the alley he thought back on the letter he had received an hour prior.

' _Lucius Malfoy wants to encourage a relationship between his son and Astoria?'_

The question was _why._

The gossip that his eldest daughter was romantically involved with the scion of two of England's most influential families had spread like wildfire, as had his approval of the relationship -effectively announcing to the world that the Greengrass family would not be supporting the Dark Lord in his attempt at revolution. And while he didn't expect Astoria to break off contact with Draco Malfoy, he certainly hadn't expected Lucius to act so boldly.

' _What did he hope to gain?'_ He had asked himself, but the answer was obvious.

' _Secrets.'_ And he had already invited the child into his home once, he had undoubtedly wanted a tour.

' _And seen the library.'_ He shivered at the thought.

' _Horcruxes, Tom Riddle, Abraxas Malfoy.'_ Ophelia had been privy to it all.

' _And now my family is in danger.'_

Cutting through the wind and rain Alfred ascended the steps of Gringotts with some pace, hoping to finish his task as soon as possible.

Despite the hour, he met little resistance at the door as the two goblins merely eyed him with varying degrees of suspicion - accustom to late-night visitors.

He quickly made his way to a bored looking teller at the front of the empty bank.

"I'd like to make a deposit." He said with more confidence then he felt.

The creature eyed him blankly for a moment; "gold or possessions?" He asked in a bored manner.

"Possessions." He said confidently, placing the shrunken trunk hanging from his waist onto the counter.

The goblin made to grab the trunk, but Alfred stopped him.

"I'd like to accompany the parcel to my family's vault, please."

The goblin shot him an annoyed look - trips to ones' vault were exceptionally rare and required more work than a goblin liked to put in at such an hour.

Still, with the request made, the creature couldn't refuse and shouted out in gobbledygook.

A tired-looking second goblin appeared a second later, ready to lead him to the depths of Gringotts.

Removing a small sack of galleons from his pocket, he gave the first goblin his most serious look, pushing the bag towards the teller.

"This transaction never happened."

With a greedy smile the goblin took the bag and nodded his head.

"It seems I have misplaced my ledger, but I'm pretty sure my colleague has a spare."

Alfred got the hint, and with a nod of his head followed the second goblin to the carts.

' _The price I pay to keep my family safe.'_

* * *

"Did you see Krum's face?" Daphne exclaimed, a face-slitting grin adorning her face. "It looked like he had just finished double potions with Snape!"

He laughed. The making their way to the dungeons from the decidedly anti-climactic selection ceremony.

"His reaction was surprising, but not unexpected." Harry responded.

While Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory had both been hoping to become their schools champions, Viktor Krum - rumor had it - only entered at behest of the Vratsa Vultures, the star seeker's club team wanted the added press.

Daphne nodded; "I overheard a prefect tell Blaise that both Krum and Federov wanted Federov to represent Durmstrang."

The pair let the conversation drift as they made themselves comfortable in a pair of plush, leather chairs they had conjured for themselves at the beginning of the year.

"Who did you draw in round one?" His she asked. Along with the announcement of the three champions, duelers had partaken in the official draw for the first round of the _other_ aspects of the tournament.

The dueling tournament was set to begin in two weeks, and despite his excitement for the opportunity, he couldn't help but wonder if fourth years - from any school - could challenge him, let alone Maria Duval.

"Maria Duval from Beauxbatons, how about you?"

"Constantine Heidberg. He's in my transfiguration class, I'm not overly impressed."

It was no secret among the schools that one of the Hogwarts fourth years was expected to win the dueling tournament, most felt that Harry and Daphne would ultimately duel each other for that crown, the Weasley twins had even given that possibility 2:1 odds.

The pair settled into a comfortable silence as Daphne dove into a book on conjuration, while he flipped open to an earmarked page in a plain, black journal once belonging to Tom Riddle.

Tom Riddle, he had discovered through the years, was frighteningly brilliant, and appeared to be much further along in his studies at fourteen than he was; a thought that drove him mad.

It was odd to have a rival whom he had never met, or even corresponded with, but it pushed him to become better none-the-less.

The journal itself was a wealth of knowledge; with notes on everything from charms and the dark arts, to divination and even necromancy.

But it was Tom Riddle's obsession with Hogwarts that had piqued his interest of late.

Page after page contained detailed information about passages, artifacts, and rooms he had never heard of; but above all else, it was Tom Riddle's obsession with the Chamber of Secrets that had rubbed off on him.

The fabled chamber had been created by Salazar Slytherin towards the end of his life as a way to pass along his heritage.

Tom Riddle had hypothesized that only a parselmouth could unravel the mysteries of the chamber; Harry had wondered for years if his unique trait, a trait he apparently shared with Riddle, had any use beyond conversing with pointless creatures.

Apparently, Riddle had thought the same.

At long last, sometime in his fifth year, the Slytherin prefect had found what he had been looking for, and he had excitedly noted his discovery in the journal Harry was currently reading.

' _While attending to my prefect duties on Tuesday night, I came across an incident in the girl's loo on the second floor between two fourth year girls. After putting an end to the banal fight, I had noticed one of the girls had lost a book, which had found its way under the closest sink to the wall. While retrieving the girls book, I noticed a peculiar carving of a snake slithering around the plumbing, demanding to be spoken too.'_

Harry paused. _'No fucking way.'_

For years Riddle, and ostensibly he, had been searching for this mysterious chamber, only to find it in a girl's bathroom?

' _I instinctively knew what to do, as if the magic of the chamber had been speaking to me, calling for me to unleash the mysteries._ 'Open' _I hissed, and the wall came apart, revealing a narrow, disgusting, set of stairs.'_

"He found it."

Daphne looked up from her book with a start; "who found what?"

"Tom Riddle. He found the Chamber of Secrets in the girl's loo on the second floor!" Harry slammed the book shut, eager to explore the chamber for himself.

The look of indecision on his girlfriend's face gave him pause.

"What's wrong?"

Daphne bit her bottom lip in hesitation.

When she spoke, her voice was trembling;"how much do you know about Tom Riddle, Harry? I mean do we _really_ want to trust his judgement?"

' _Where is this coming from?'_ After all, they had been using this room - to both of their benefit - for years, and _now_ she has worries.

"We've trusted his judgement enough to use this room…"

She cut him off, motioning towards the spartan desk several meters away; "that drawer nearly killed you!"

He frowned; "I wasn't ready for that; besides, I'm sure Riddle took care of the dangerous things that may be in the Chamber."

For the first time in his life he saw Daphne look _scared,_ although he didn't know why.

She fidgeted silently in her chair for a few seconds before a familiar calm passed over her.

"It's Tom Riddle, Harry." She said through baited breath; "the man who would later become Voldemort."

A hurricane of emotions flew through him.

Disbelief. Tom Riddle couldn't have become Voldemort. While he certainly tended to research the more destructive aspects of magic, the boy didn't fit the mold of a psychopath, did he?

Denial. Tom Riddle postulated about a lot of harmful ways magic could be used; but many geniuses have their kinks - Dumbledore spent years studying resurrection and he wasn't evil.

 _Anger._ If Riddle really _was_ the man who killed his parents, then why the hell would Daphne keep that from him, isn't that something he should have known?

"How long have you known, Greengrass?" She flinched at the use of her surname.

' _Good.'_ He thought.

In that moment he _wanted_ her to feel the hurt and betrayal he was.

"I came across that information in my Aunt's memories last year." She admitted, a slight tremble in her voice.

"And you kept that from me?" He said with disgust. Keeping secrets was one thing - he didn't need to know that every Thursday she had lunch with Astoria in an unused lounge on the third floor, but _this_? This was different.

"I _liked_ you Harry." She started. "I liked our time together in this room. I liked that we pushed each other to our limits. I liked that the knowledge you found in here made you want to become better, I liked laughing with you and having a friend, what was I supposed to do?" She yelled, anger finally creeping into her voice.

"I don't know!" He responded with vitriol. "Maybe tell me that I'm learning from the most evil man who had ever lived!"

"So what? You would stop learning? Knowledge is knowledge, _Potter._ " She spat. "It's how you use it that matters! You're the one who has to kill the bastard someday, now you know him as well as anyone!"

The reminder of the prophecy tugged at his mind, but anger overwhelmed him, his wand at the ready as he stepped towards her.

"Get out, Greengrass. You're not welcome here anymore."

Daphne stood abruptly, fiery pride on her perfect face, she stepped towards the door before turning to face him one last time.

"I don't regret it, Harry. I hope someday you come to see that." She said softly, closing the door behind her as she left.

Finally, _fear_ flowed through him.

' _If I find Tom Riddle and his ideas this captivating, what does that say about me?'_

* * *

Voldemort eyed the woman across from him with mild disdain at her failure.

He gripped Crouch'swillow and dragon heartstring wand - a relatively poor match compared to his own yew and phoenix feather - in annoyance, he had many good qualities, patience wasn't one of them.

"You better have a secondary plan, Bellatrix." He stated in a soft, calm voice.

She flinched at his tone.

He didn't blame her, that tone tended to shorten lifespans.

So did his yelling, now that he contemplated the issue.

"Of course, my lord."

Bellatrix spoke with confidence and maintained eye contact, showing none of her fear.

He'd always loved her self-assured nature, it reminded him of himself.

Calm.

Confident.

Cunning.

Dangerous.

Smart.

The five qualities he looked for in a General, and a relatively brilliant one, Bellatrix Lestrange had become.

"Good. "

"It will be a few weeks before we can execute it, my lord. The boy is cautious, and difficult to get alone, but the pieces are already in motion."

Severus had once said Dumbledore would do anything to protect the Potter family; the theory had proved true in the past.

The wait was no problem; it wouldn't be good to act before Lucius had a chance to set the board, anyways.

"Take your time, Bella, but get it right. Failure will not be tolerated again."

' _Lies;_ ' he couldn't afford to lose the sadistic witch; others could be sacrificed, but not Bellatrix Lestrange.

The finality in his voice conveyed his message, and the black-haired witch dismissed herself with a deep bow before calmly walking out of the room.

Absentmindedly he fidgeted with the ring on his finger, relishing the feeling of one partial soul tickling the other.

He hadn't felt this alive in years.

* * *

"Are you two still fighting?" Terry said as they exited herbology on the third day of November.

"Ummhmm." Was his response as he finished reading a letter from Sirius.

"What the hell are you two fighting about, anyways?"

Harry stopped in his tracks, his eyes turning to Daphne's swaying hips as she, Lily, and Blaise headed towards the castle.

' _Do I tell him?'_ He contemplated that thought for a second.

He needed to tell someone, it may as well be his best friend.

' _He's betrayed you before, Harry. Can you really trust him?'_ He contemplated telling him a partial truth but decided against it, unwilling to lie to his friend.

"Personal stuff, that's all."

And it _was_ personal. His argument with Daphne had thrown his mood off – he hadn't realized how much he had been leaning on her.

He couldn't even muster the nerves to check out the very thing that caused their fight.

"Do you think you two will work it out?" Terry asked, stopping in front of a large oak tree near the westernmost greenhouse; burning a triangle with a downward slash through it into the center of the tree.

The trunk of the tree widened, and the charred bark disappeared, revealing a dusty path that would lead them to just outside the student lounge on the third floor, defying the laws of physics.

' _Riddle's passageway.'_

He frowned.

"Congratulations, by the way." He said, changing the topic.

Terry took the subject change in stride and smiled.

"Thanks, I really like her."

"Not Marci, you jackass." He half-laughed, rolling his eyes. His friend had really loosened up since meeting the pretty French witch. "Your mother."

The brunette boy smiled. "Thanks! It will be coming up for a vote in the Wizengamot early next year, dad says."

He had read in the Prophet that morning that his mother's Wolfsbane potion had finally been deemed "safe" by the ministry, all that was left was to get the Wizengamot's approval.

Back in first year Terry had told him how difficult it was for a family to elevate their financial status, families worked for years to break that barrier; with Melissa Boot's potion, his family would have that opportunity.

He frowned internally; that conversation had been about why Goldstein hated him. _'All because my ancestor saw a better investment opportunity.'_

The boy had been a thorn in his side for years, but something in him had _changed_ this year.

Where there had once been loud taunts and jabs at how people around him died, that bullying had lacked a sense of determination. This years version of Anthony Goldstein had that in excess.

"How will your father remain impartial?"

Terry sighed; "he'll have to recuse himself."

Harry nodded; he had expected as much.

"We can count on the support of House Potter and House Black, right?"

Harry nodded his head vigorously; without that potion Remus would be a wreck.

"After what it has done for Remus? Of course!"

* * *

He watched as Daphne bowed slightly to Constantine Heidberg, fixing the boy with a bored look.

The Durmstrang fourth year looked confident in his blood red dueling robes and black dragon skin boots.

The adversaries stepped into their dueling circles, and at the referee's mark, the duel began.

The red-haired boy opened with a mildly impressive string of bludgeoners and knee-reversal hexes.

None of them had a chance against Daphne as she danced around her circle with grace, countering with a string of silent explosive curses aimed at the ground in front of her opponent, spewing up a cloud of rock and dust.

The contrast in her casting ability to that of her opponents was embarrassing.

He recognized her strategy and smirked at what he saw.

' _She's experimenting.'_

For as long as he had known her, Daphne had preferred a direct approach; avoiding distractions in favor of direct confrontation.

Piercing curses, fire spells, blood boilers; those were her bread and butter.

And her strategy worked well, as long as she was facing an inferior opponent.

Consistently losing to him and Tonks in their practice duels had finally taught her to be more well-rounded.

Heidelberg could hardly be considered the superior here, he noted as Daphne evoked a beautiful, golden shield with a soft mutter - allowing the boys skin pealing curse to be absorbed.

' _Overkill.'_ He thought to himself; she would have been better off smacking that curse aside and countering quickly.

But the regal blonde knew that; and if the small smile tugging at the corner of Tonks's lips was any indicator, so did she.

Seemingly bored with the duel, Greengrass directed a large bolt of lightning at her opponent.

Constantine's eyes widened as he leapt from his circle.

The Durmstrang contingent hissed in displeasure - not at Constantine's cowardice, but at Daphne's borderline lethal spell.

Harry laughed. For all their bravado Durmstrang could barely last two minutes.

Several meters away the Durmstrang coach was arguing that point to the referee animatedly, while Tonks seemed to be pointing out that since her duelist didn't use any water spells, she was within her right to use lightning.

To the layman, Daphne looked bored with the argument; but he could see the subtle amusement in her features as she observed the Durmstrang students.

The _slight_ tug on her high-cheekbones accentuating her jawline.

Well-manicured eyebrows; the left standing a little higher than the right, as if _daring_ the foreigners to fire a spell at her.

And finally, her posture; chest puffed out as she stood back on her heels, her sleeves purposefully rolled up, showing the whole crowd her wand, which was fastened non-threatingly in the holster on her wrist.

She was _inviting_ confrontation.

Daphne Greengrass wasn't scared of one of them.

The referee made the correct decision and she caught his eye; _impress me,_ the look screamed.

He scraped his original plan of finishing Maria Duval with one spell as soon as he stepped on the stage; eager to match his competition's display.

The roar of the crowd filled him with exhilaration as he offered the French witch a polite bow, catching Gabrielle's pretty blue eyes as he did so.

The part-veela was sitting in the front row, right behind the dueling platform.

Her expression was more curious than calculating, though there was definitely some of the later in her oval, almost avian face.

His opponent looked nervous; and he couldn't help but feel sorry for the tall brunette; even if there _hadn't_ been _rumors_ about him, she would be filled with anxiety. She was outmatched and they both knew it.

It didn't take a scouting report from Tonks to tell him that.

She opened by casting a disillusionment charm on herself, following it up with a blanket of grey smoke.

' _Smart start.'_ He thought, looking for any sign of movement. What the witch lacked in power she made up for in strategy.

For the crowd's sake he remained visible.

A bright orange curse flew at him from his right.

Without hesitation he batted the spell away; and in a snap decision he knew what he needed to work on.

Charms and offensive magic had been his preferred strategy throughout his time at Hogwarts; but both Tonks and Daphne wanted him to incorporate more transfiguration and conjuration into his style.

Silently he dissipated the smoke, following it up with a large swath of red paint.

An amount of the paint rested in the air, and with a flick of his wrist he conjured a murder of ravens, directing them at his opponent.

Duval eliminated them with a wide-area stunner immediately, much to his surprise, hoping to catch him off-guard with a quick counter.

But Harry was too quick as he hit the ground in front of himself with a minor explosive curse, causing the dueling platform to splinter.

Using the debris as a base material, he quickly transfigured a pair of Doberman's, sending them charging at the lanky girl who was still trying to catch her bearings after dealing with the ravens.

Displaying some surprising quickness, Maria hit both dogs with bludgeoners to the head, causing their skulls to explode in a sea of red.

The crowd roared with gusto as the French witch sent a weak piercing curse his way.

The curse was accurate, but not accurate enough as Harry turned his torso slightly, causing the curse to crash into the wards behind him.

' _Enough of this.'_

The fight was boring, and he had better things to do.

With a couple of circular motions, he transfigured some debris into a large polar bear.

The transfiguration was at the upper edge of his limits, but he wanted to impress.

The bear roared, but his wand hadn't stopped moving as he transfigured another few pieces of wood into a chest plate and a helmet before sticking them to the bear - effectively guarding his beast from Maria's spells.

The girl screamed in terror as the bear charged at her - running from her circle in fright.

After being declared the victor, Harry sent a severing curse at the bear, catching the transfiguration in its neck, severing its head.

The Hogwarts crowd roared in approval while the Beauxbatons contingent -minus Gabrielle who gave him a look that screamed approval and… something else - reacted in much the same manner as Durmstrang had.

' _Fear.'_ He realized. Everyone who had witnessed the last two duels _feared_ the victors.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

As he calmly hopped off stage he caught Daphne's eye and her brief nod of approval.

' _Daphne doesn't fear me.'_ He realized.

' _To hell with the rest of them.'_

* * *

Daphne smiled triumphantly as the potion in front of her turned from a nice magenta, to a crystal clear color.

Setting her potion to simmer, she stood up from the rigid wooden chair, extending her arms above her head and arching her back as she stretched.

The brew was exceptional, and after simmering for three hours, she would have her own cauldron of Parysatis's Poison.

She shuddered slightly as the wards recognized her presence, letting her leave the room she and Harry had created, unharmed.

' _A ward Harry had learned from Riddle.'_

The thought was unnerving, her boyfriend had been learning from Voldemort for years; but Harry had drastically overreacted to her revelation - after all, it's not as though he hadn't stolen knowledge from _other_ dark lords.

' _Tempus'_ She thought as she exited into the castle.

' _Damn.'_ She hated being out after curfew. With the castle so empty, it became harder to blend in.

Daphne cast a disillusionment charm on herself and silenced her shoes as she hung a left and took the wide staircase to a seldom used part of the dungeons.

The stairs led her to a mostly unused corridor – one of many such corridors, remnants of a forgotten time when hundreds of kids filled these hallways.

' _What the hell?'_ She thought as her body tingled slightly.

Casting a quick diagnostic charm, she frowned as she discovered that temporary proximity wards had been erected over the area.

Alerted by the wards, she could hear a set of voices heading her way.

Daphne quickly placed a notice-me-not charm on herself before hugging the damp stone walls, making sure to remain perfectly still.

A moment later Professor Avery, flanked by Malfoy and Goldstein appeared.

She eyed them suspiciously as they walked the perimeter.

' _What are you assholes up to?'_

"It was probably just Ms. Norris." Goldstein quipped.

She eyed the tall boy suspiciously; his dislike of Harry buoyed by his affiliation with Malfoy; _'and Avery;'_ made him potentially dangerous.

The charms professor seemed to accept that answer readily enough, and the trio headed back towards where they came.

She followed them from a distance, watching as they made their way into an unused classroom.

"Alright, boys." She heard the voice of Daniel Avery say in a light tone; "the incantation is _'Obliviate!'_ "

Daphne gasped in horror as she peaked into the room.

Thankfully they didn't have a victim to practice on, but by the looks of their spells they weren't far from taking that final step.

Quietly she snuck away.

She had a letter to write.

Daphne's mind raced as she sprinted back to the common room.

' _The memory charm. Within Draco's grasp.'_

She thought of Astoria's growing _relationship_ with the boy, and dread filled her.

But who could she take her concerns to?

Snape wouldn't discipline his godson.

Vector; while fair, was till Goldstein's Head of House.

' _McGonagall.'_

The Deputy Headmistress was exceptionally fair; and would at the very least investigate the matter.

The issue was settled, first thing in the morning she would seek out the Transfiguration professor and express her concerns.

* * *

"It's so… _busy."_ She said with wonder as Harry grabbed her hand and led her past the multitude of ovens and stove tops and towards a quiet corner near the back of the kitchens.

"Are the kitchens at Beauxbatons quieter?" He asked curiously.

Gabrielle tilted her head in thought as he did his best not to stare.

"I don't believe I have ever seen the kitchens at Beauxbatons, 'Arry."

It took all his training to not blush at the way she purred his name. _'Thank god for occlumency.'_

"Then you don't know your school well enough!" He proclaimed, pulling her chair out for her as she took a seat.

"Such a gentleman, 'Arry." She teased.

He _did_ blush that time.

Harry found himself in a difficult situation as they exchanged small talk while waiting for their first course to arrive.

Gabrielle was incredibly easy to talk to and when he talked to her, she had a way of drawing him in so that nothing else in the world seemed to matter.

There was no doubt his French friend had many suitors; but here she was, with one of the few people in the school who she couldn't have.

"How's quidditch training coming?"

He knew from their previous talks that her practice schedule had been a little more demanding than she had anticipated.

Her blue eyes danced in delight at the change in topic. Flying came naturally to the part veela, and Harry had come to learn that the competition gave her an outlet for her suppressed aggression.

" _Magnifique!"_ She exclaimed excitedly. "I've won a spot in the starting lineup for Saturday!"

He congratulated his friend, but otherwise listened to her excited response silently, distracted as her leg seemed to brush against his from under the table.

Not that he minded.

The topic switched to his duel against her classmate as they ate their main course before shifting to nonsensical, random topics as they waited for their desert.

"Is Fleur ready for the first task?"

Gabrielle frowned; "she _claims_ she isn't, but I find that hard to believe."

The first task was meant to put an exclamation point on the upcoming weekend's activities.

"Does she know what it is yet?"

The honey-blonde seemed to ponder his question for a moment, before a smile graced her angelic face.

"Can you keep a secret."

It was his turn to smile; "better than anyone in the school."

"She won't tell me what it is... but she's been getting help from Madame Maxime; and I know she has snuck off into the forest at least twice; I have a feeling she may know."

He nodded his head in disappointment at the lack of information, before holding out his arm,

allowing Gabrielle to loop her arm in his as they left the kitchens.

They walked in a comfortable silence for several minutes when a far-off voice interrupted them.

"Gabrielle!" A girl Harry did not recognize shouted out.

The girl ran towards them, and the pair exchanged a rapid conversation in French before the other girl nodded and ran off.

Gabrielle turned towards him, uncertainty on her face.

"I've heard about your fight with Daphne, Harry." She started nervously.

Harry tensed up, hoping she both _would_ and _wouldn't_ kiss him again.

"Are the two of you attending the ball together?"

Despite being prepared for it, the question still caught him off-guard.

He and Daphne hadn't talked over the last couple weeks, and with December approaching it was something they needed to figure out.

Still…. His fight with Daphne felt more like wonton anger than something he couldn't get over - even now her actions didn't do more than annoy him.

"Yes." He answered, giving her an apologetic smile. "We are."

Gabrielle offered him a sad smile; "a girls gotta try." She responded sadly before enveloping him in a quick embrace.

"I hope to see you in the stands Saturday, Harry!" She said, the invite lacking some of her natural enthusiasm.

"I'll be cheering for you." He said with a bright smile.

"You better." She said, a hint of forced cheerfulness in her voice.

"Goodbye, Harry." She said softly before kissing his cheek.

And with that, Gabrielle Delacour turned on her heel and headed off to the small group of witch's waiting for her.

* * *

"Uck. Why do we need to collect these damn leaves again?" Lily said, wiping the thick, purple liquid emanating from the roots and leaves of the shrivelfig in front of them.

"We need them for the shrinking solution we're making in potions on Thursday." Was his quick reply as he collected what was needed and pushed the shrivelfig aside.

"We don't _need_ to, though." Lily said conspiratorially; all of this is in our potions kit.

He just shrugged as they packed up and headed towards the door.

"How's Blaise doing?"

Lily's eyes briefly came to life before fading slightly.

' _She's gotten much better at controlling her emotions.'_ He thought with approval.

"He's doing good! We spend most of our free time mapping out constellations, right now we're working on Cassiopeia!"

He would never understand their fascination with stars but admired his friends passion for the subject nonetheless.

"I heard you had lunch with Gabrielle?"

There was a slight question in her otherwise emotionless voice.

"The other day, it was nice."

' _And challenging.'_ He added silently.

It was hard _not_ to be attracted to the French girl; looks aside, Gabrielle Delacour was a joy to be around.

"Daphne didn't like that." Lily chided as they entered into the castle.

He shrugged; "I can't have lunch with a friend?"

She snorted. "Are you trying to tell me she didn't ask you to the Yule Ball?"

Hopefully he managed to keep the surprise off his face. "Where did you hear that?"

She just stared at him blankly in response.

' _A little too good.'_

"Besides, I said I was going with Daphne."

Lily smiled. "You should tell Daphne that, she's been a wreck."

The truth was he _wanted_ to. He missed her, he _needed_ her in his life - Hogwarts was dull without her around. But his pride wouldn't let him.

"I know." He replied. With some slight hesitation he quickly added; "would you tell her that I've changed the password back? She'll understand."

Lily offered him a pretty smile; "tell her yourself."

He sighed; he really _should._ But an apology would make her believe she did nothing wrong, and he couldn't allow that, even if he did realize he was overreacting.

"Would you just pass along the message, please?" He half pleaded.

Lily seemed to struggle internally before groaning; "fine, but just this once."

* * *

The crowd was buzzing with excitement as they took their seats on a chilly November Sunday.

The first task was set to begin any minute now, putting an end to an exciting weekend that saw Durmstrang defeat Beauxbatons 210-180 in quidditch the day before.

"Are you going to tell us what the first task is, or are you going to make us wait?" Terry asked; the boy had been speculating on what the first task could be for nearly a week – postulating on anything from killing an Acromantula to testing their nerve with some dementors.

The whole thing was driving Harry mad.

Gabrielle smiled, showing off her pearly whites while moving a strand of loose hair out of her face.

"They have to get past a dragon and steal an egg."

Marci and Terry balked at her statement, but he just smiled; from the cavalier way Gabrielle had revealed the task, he knew that the charms prodigy must have a plan.

"Do you think Diggory and Krum know what the task is?"

Gabrielle shrugged, but he cut Terry off before he could respond.

"I'd bet Krum knew." There was no way the Vultures would ask their star seeker to enter a dangerous tournament without knowing all the risks involved.

"But I doubt Diggory knew anything."

There was something vitreous and naïve about Hogwarts, and there was no doubt in his mind that Dumbledore would uphold his oath and ensure Diggory got no special help.

The three champions stood at the center of the quidditch pitch as Ludo Bagman announced the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, and while Delacour and Krum didn't even bother to feign surprise - Diggory had gone from confident, to ghost-white in a matter of seconds, confirming his theory.

"What were the redheads saying, Terry?" Marci questioned.

The Weasley twins had turned gambling into a lucrative side business in their time at Hogwarts, and for the last week they had been accepting bets on the first task.

"They have Fleur as the favorite to win this task."

"Why's that?" He asked curiously, wondering how they knew so much about Fleur.

"I told them what I knew about her, and apparently they have their own sources as well."

Gabrielle smiled brightly; "Fleur's ability with charms, as well as a veela's natural resistance to fire gives her the advantage."

The group nodded as Viktor Krum prepared to take on his Swedish Short-Snout.

The vicious looking creature roared with gusto, trying to break free of its bindings and attack the threat in front of him.

For his part, Krum looked annoyed by the entire proceeding, and when the whistle blew, he started moving his wand in a slow, circular motion.

Besides his prowess in quidditch, it had been reported in the Prophet the Viktor Krum was an ambitious hunter; a trait that would undoubtedly help him in his task.

Harry recognized the fireproofing charm, which Krum immediately followed up with a charm commonly used by hunters to mask their smell.

His wand movements were precise and fluid, and he imagined his spells were applied properly.

Next the quidditch star started to move forward cautiously as the dragon tried to lunge at the Durmstrang champion.

Krum took a hesitant step back before sending several curses at the dragon, attempting to blind the creature.

His first two spells missed, but his third found its mark, hitting the dragon in its left eye.

The Swedish Short-Snout thrashed around in pain, causing Krum to jump to an unnatural height.

' _Wingardium Leviosa.'_ He thought with pained amusement, thinking sadly about his old friend.

Harry often wondered about Hermione, what she would be doing right now.

' _What I'd be doing right now.'_ Would he be the same person he was today?

While slowly levitating towards the ground, the seeker let loose several high-level cutting charms, charms normally meant for precious medals.

The first missed, but the third connected with the dragons tail, instantly severing a large piece of it, causing the creature to let out a loud roar.

Seemingly satisfied with his effort, Krum conjured a thick cloud of smoke, disappearing from view.

On the pitch he could hear the dragon thrash around in displeasure.

When the smoke cleared a few seconds later, a limping Viktor Krum was holding a golden egg as the Durmstrang contingent roared in delight.

The judges conveyed, whispering together for a minute before the four scores were tallied.

"38." Terry stated. "Not bad."

"But not good enough." Gabrielle boasted. "Fleur will only use one spell, and she will walk away unharmed, you'll see."

The French witch took her place on the pitch, a bored expression on her face as she stared down the Chinese Fireball in front of her.

The Fireball sniffed the air cautiously. Seemingly sensing danger, the dragon immediately shot a thick stream of fire at Fleur, causing the witch to run forward at an unnatural speed, cutting hard and to the left.

Gabrielle squeezed his thigh in worry, but otherwise showed no concern for her sisters safety.

While Fleur was moving, her eyes never left her target, and her wand never stopped moving.

"She's using Grimhilde's curse." Gabrielle answered at his questioning gaze.

Queen Grimhilde, was a sixteenth century Scandinavian queen famous for cursing her step-daughter into a near permanent sleep.

With that knowledge, Harry re-focused his attention on the scene in front of him with intrigue.

As she completed the complex curse, the dragon glowed a faint blue before stumbling absentmindedly around the pitch before falling to the ground in an enchanted slumber, causing the arena to shake gently.

As the crowd roared in delight, the Beauxbatons champion calmly grabbed her egg, and exited the stadium unharmed.

"A perfect score." Terry grumbled from next to him.

Next to him Marci and Gabrielle shot the boy an annoyed look at his disappointment.

A few rows down Harry noticed Fred and George Weasley eye each other with delight - undoubtedly most of Hogwarts had bet on Diggory.

"It seems your redheaded friends will make some money today." Marci quipped.

"Unless Cedric pulls off a perfect score." Terry added hopefully, earning him another stern glare.

While Krum had looked annoyed, and Fleur bored - Cedric Diggory looked absolutely terrified as the horn sounded, signifying the start of his task.

Sensing his fear, the fierce looking Peruvian Vipertooth let out a loud roar before swinging his spiked tail at the Hogwarts champion, catching him in the ribs and sending him flying several feet in the air.

"That looked like it hurt." Terry added grimly.

Next to him he noticed Gabrielle subconsciously rub her own ribs where she had taken a bludger the previous day.

"It is unfair that he did not know." Marci spoke with dismay.

Harry just shrugged, if Cedric couldn't be bothered to figure out what the task was ahead of time, he probably didn't deserve to be a champion.

The well-built sixth year got up with some trepidation, transfiguring some rocks into several dogs, sending them to the outskirts of the stadium, hoping to draw the dragons attention away from himself.

For a moment, the strategy seemed to work as the Chinese Fireball eagerly chased down and killed the dogs before realizing that Diggory was encroaching on her nest.

With an angry roar the dragon let out a torrent of flames, causing Diggory to freeze just long enough to be hit in the side with the impossibly hot flame.

His amplified screams filled the stadium as dragon handlers and medics rushed out to the pitch to rescue the sixth year.

The attitude in the arena seemed to change in that moment as the crowd realized the true danger involved in the Triwizard Tournament.

No longer was the crowd cheering in delight at the spectacle in front of them; for the first time, many seemed to remember why the tournament had been cancelled a century earlier in the first place.

* * *

Minerva listened half-heartedly as Pomona gave her weekly report; focusing on a conflict between two third years that was becoming increasingly malicious.

She sighed; no matter how hard they tried, bullying, it seems, would never be eradicated.

"Thank you, Pomona." Albus said with his usual grace. "Minerva, do you have any updates for us."

Internally, the animagus groaned; she had been dreading this moment for days. It was never fun to express concerns about students in other houses - but she had a duty to do so.

"Late last week I was approached by a student who claimed to witness Professor Avery giving practical instruction to Draco Malfoy and Anthony Goldstein on how to apply the memory charm."

Pomona gasped at the claim while Albus looked impassive, and a look of doubt crossed Septima's face.

"I have known Daniel for eighteen years, Minerva, and I find it highly unlikely that he would teach two fourth years such a dangerous spell." The warding professor stated with skepticism.

Severus nodded his head in agreement; "I am aware that Professor Avery has been instructing several Slytherins in his free time, but their focus has always been on supplementing the students curriculum, not learning how to erase memories from a person's mind."

Albus listened in silence; his eyes lacking their normal twinkle.

"That is a serious accusation, Minerva. I am assuming you have some proof to back these claims up?"

She swallowed hard; she _didn't_ have sufficient proof, but a claim as serious as the one made by Ms. Greengrass could not be taken lightly.

"All I have, Headmaster, is the testimony of a witness who showed me where they were practicing; I have, however, set up the necessary monitoring wards to observe the situation further."

"Minerva, I insist that you reveal the name of your witness." The statement was more of a demand than a question, and she knew she wouldn't be able to ward off both the Ravenclaw and Slytherin heads of house.

In return she offered a kind smile towards the popular Ravenclaw head before glancing towards Severus.

"It was Daphne Greengrass who approached me."

The potions master sneered; "why would she go to _you_ , Minerva? I'm responsible for her well-being while she is at Hogwarts, not you."

"Technically, Severus, every professor is responsible for every child in our care, regardless of house." Albus interrupted gently.

She offered her mentor a gracious smile before returning her attention to the two heads in front of her.

"Apparently Ms. Greengrass worried that if she came to you with an accusation against your godson, the matter would be dismissed outright. It seems she made a wise decision."

Severus made to retort, but Albus stopped him.

"Thank you for the report, Minerva. I will investigate this matter personally."

A few minutes later, the Transfiguration professor exited the teachers' lounge with a smile, never noticing the malicious look being sent her way.

* * *

Antonin Dolohov sat quietly at his table, enjoying his mutton as he split his attention between the entrance to Monument Park and the buxom waitress taking orders at the table next to him.

He was _bored_ , he had to admit. While he lusted after battle, and enjoyed planning, he _hated_ waiting, and that's the position he and his comrades found themselves in as they waited for their leaders return.

"Would you like another firewhiskey?" The curly haired waitress asked in a thick Irish accent, interrupting his musings.

"Yes ma'am." He responded, shooting her his most charming smile.

The waitress blushed at the attention, rushing off to grab him another drink.

It was a quarter of an hour later when he saw his mark leaving the shop.

' _Well I'll be damned; the rat was right.'_

Throwing some galleons on the table, Antonin Dolohov left the small pub and applied a disillusionment charm on himself.

Pettigrew had claimed that his old friend visited the sweet shop at the intersection of Whisper and Diagon Alley's every Tuesday; and he longed to get his own revenge on the man who had killed his wife.

Lord Black was cautious in his movements; erratically zig-zagging in and out of crowds, dipping into sparsely crowded alleyways as he made his way towards the Leaky Cauldron. Tactics implemented only by the paranoid.

Still, he followed quietly from a distance, waiting for his moment to pounce.

Following Black down an empty street that bordered Knockturn Alley, his mark disappeared from view.

Alarm bells went off in the Death Eaters mind as he withdrew his wand and pressed his body against a wall, trying to determine where Black had gone.

To his left, a narrow, dimly lit alley would have taken his target back towards Whisper Alley and the sweet-shop.

Ahead of him and to his right was another side-street that, after several meters, would diverge into three different directions.

Antonin frowned – he had either lost his mark, or he was about to be attacked.

He didn't have to wonder for long, as a black curse with purple tendrils caught him in the leg, causing him to roar out in pain as he felt the effects of the rotting curse immediately begin to take effect.

Antonin had no time to reverse the spell, still finding himself on the defensive.

Unable to dodge, he batted away Blacks first salvo before tapping his head, casting a quick _contego_ shield on his body.

The tingling silver shield contoured itself to his form, absorbing Blacks next two spells with ease.

" _Ruo Flagram!"_ He thought as a black flame whip emerged from his wand.

Blacks eyes widened slightly before he let out a hollow laugh.

"Is that all you've got, Dolohov?"

The dark-haired man let out a snarl, and with inhuman speed he directed the whip at Blacks head, narrowly missing.

The man responded with a series of bone breakers, putting him back on the defensive and rendering his shield useless as he felt several ribs crack.

" _Crucio!"_ Dolohov spit in anger, catching his opponent off guard.

The man in front of him howled, his face contorting as his muscles spasmed in pain, but Black still managed to avoid his killing curse.

Antonin continued to press his advantage, following up with a skin peeler, an organ rupturing curse, and a bone breaker, hitting the pathetic pureblood in the chest, kidneys, and jaw.

Sensing victory, he approached the withering man, hatred radiating from his eyes.

"This is for Petra."He said with a snarl.

But before the final curse could escape his lips, a pained smile swept across the blood-traitors face as he grasped his necklace and disappeared.

* * *

Sweat dripped down his face as he dodged a spinning navy-blue curse.

"You're slowing down, Potter!" Snape snapped as the surly potions professor flung acid at him, nearly catching him on his left shoulder as he dove out of the way.

Dueling the long-haired man was a combination of difficult, exhausting, and informative, and while he didn't look forward to their bi-weekly sessions, he had come to see how useful they could be.

Snape ceased firing curses momentarily, allowing him the chance to counter _'Ruo Flagram!'_ He thought, causing a large, black flame whip to emerge from his wand.

He willed the wild flame towards his opponents torso, only to watch his efforts fail.

"That's how you're going to waste your opportunity, Potter?" The former Death Eater taunted as he easily dissipated the cursed flame.

"Fire whips are for amateurs, boy. Any experienced Death Eater will take advantage of your foolishness. This isn't one of your pathetic school duels!"

Snape's teaching style, he had come to learn, largely revolved around insulting and taunting him while offering the occasional pointer.

All in the name of trying to get him to lose his temper.

"Ignem Aestifer!" The potions master shouted unnecessarily.

It would be easy for Harry to accuse the petty man of taking some cruel pleasure in trying to hurt him, but he had seen past that partial facade - after all, Severus Snape didn't _need_ to annunciate his spells.

He ducked the jet of ugly, cursed fire, only to realize, a little too late, that the fire had been a distraction as he was hit in the chest with a flesh-eating curse, causing him to drop his wand and cry out in pain.

The curse gnawed at his skin as chunks of bloody flesh began to fall off his chest.

"Pathetic, Potter." Snape said with disdain, reversing the curse.

"What the hell was that?" He asked in anger.

While the man's spells always bordered on dangerous, this was the first time the man had used a spell _designed_ to violently kill its opponent.

' _Is he trying to kill me?'_

He honestly wasn't sure.

The git seemed to read his mind and offered him a cruel smile.

"A curse you would encounter in a life or death battle, Potter. I won't waste my time stroking your ego."

Harry gritted his teeth. "This isn't a real battle! This is practice!"

"Of course it isn't a real battle."

The older man calmly dismissed; the casual way in which he had _agreed_ with him had caught Harry off-guard.

"If this had been a real battle you'd be dead."

The cavalier response caused him to pause.

Despite his hatred of Snape, the man _was_ right, and it made him uncomfortable.

"You're good for a schoolboy, Potter." Snape grudgingly admitted. "But you wouldn't last more than a few minutes against a competent wizard, your fun little trick at the World Cup worked once, but it won't work again."

Harry _wanted_ to argue with the cruel man, but he knew he was right, duels against Tonks and Moody had shown him just how far he still had to go.

"What do I do?" He asked in a defeated tone.

Snape eyed him carefully.

"You are strong, for your age, and you have an effective style." The admission looked as though it pained the pale man.

"But you have a low pain tolerance. The second you get hit with a spell, you lose your concentration. Pain, Potter. You need to experience it, you need to learn to fight when you are at your weakest or you'll never survive."

"What do you suggest I do?" He dreaded the answer.

In response Snape offered him a cruel smile.

" _Crucio!"_

* * *

"What's wrong, Draco?" The soft voice leaning against his chest asked.

Slowly he opened his eyes; "I'm just tired, Stori, that's all." Was his response as he wrapped his arms around her chest protectively.

He could see Astoria offer him a small smile in the windows reflection.

The pair fell into a comfortable silence, both enjoying each other's company as they watched the snow dance in the wind outside.

When his father had ordered him to get close to the cute brunette he never would have imagined that he would find himself in this situation.

The younger Greengrass sister hummed in agreement as she leaned against his chest, shutting her own eyes.

" _I want you to pursue a relationship with Astoria Greengrass."_ His father had said. _"Get close to her, learn about her family, learn about_ _ **Potter.**_ _"_

The girl had been a pleasant surprise, and a welcome distraction from the politics that normally accompanied his everyday life.

Unlike the overbearing Pansy Parkinson, or the desperate Tracy Davis, the younger girl seemed to lack the ulterior motives of their other housemates; she didn't make demands of him, nor did she follow him around, Astoria Greengrass seemed to truly enjoy his company.

It was a welcome change from his day to day, and playing his father's little game was becoming increasingly difficult.

"How's Daphne doing?" He quipped, doing his best to follow his father's orders, but not really caring about her bitch of a sister.

Still, the question lit up the younger Slytherins face, causing him to smile.

"She's as motivated as ever." She groaned. "I admire her determination, but I get exhausted just having lunch with the girl, I don't know how Harry does it."

 _Potter._ It was a disgrace knowing that that disgusting little halfblood was dating such a promising girl.

"Are they still fighting?"

Astoria sighed. "Yes; but neither will tell me why." She scrunched up her nose in annoyance, causing him to smile despite himself.

"Moon seems to think it's a temporary thing." He added.

Amusement danced in her hazel eyes; "I'm sure it is. Daphne told me Gabrielle Delacour asked him to the ball and he said he had a date."

Now _that_ was some new information.

It also reminded him why he was sitting atop the North Tower, watching a snowstorm.

Silently he reached into his pocket, removing a velvet box and passing it to the girl leaning against his chest.

A small look of confusion crossed her pretty face, and another involuntary smile tugged at his lips.

"Open it."

She did so slowly, the contents causing her to gasp in surprise.

"My grandfather gave that to my grandmother before they stepped into society together for the first time." He said, speaking of the beautiful silver and diamond encrusted bracelet.

"I'd like you to wear it when we go to the Yule Ball."

Astoria stayed silent for an agonizingly long moment, contemplating his words before turning around to face him, her chest resting gently on his.

"Of course, Draco." She said with a beautiful smile, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"My dress is emerald and silver, by the way."

And with that, the younger girl stood up and walked away, leaving him alone to be alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Lucius's blue eyes took in the proceedings dispassionately as the Wizengamot narrowly passed a bill repealing the limitations on certain potions imports.

The Wizengamot was a terribly boring chamber most days, but today, he thought hopefully, had some potential.

Currently neither his block nor Dumbledore's held a majority in the Wizengamot, due in part to the unexpected volatility in the voting patterns of Houses Black and Potter, who for the last year had shown a surprising amount of independence.

Malfoy caught Albert Runcorn's eye, giving the man a slight nod.

After the next motion they would act.

Lord Boot pounded his gavel three times on his desk, recognizing Lady Bones.

"House Bones would like to bring forth a motion."

Motion 37.1.3.

Wolfsbane potion.

Houses Potter and Black seconded the motion calling the issue to a vote.

"House Flint kindly asks the Chief Warlock to recuse himself from this vote."

Lord Boot recused himself from the proceedings, he knew what was at stake as he quietly stepped out of the room.

This vote could change his family's trajectory.

Octavius Nott, as Minister of Magic, stepped up to oversee the proceedings.

"Lady Bones, you may proceed with your motion."

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement bowed sagely to Octavius, and Lucius had to fight to keep the smile off his face.

' _Augustus would love this.'_

The former Unspeakable had a bit of an obsession with his old classmate back in the day, he had even been disciplined for groping her in the Ministry.

"House Bones would like to put to vote the legalization of Melisa Boots Llukánthropos na Antistrépsei, more commonly known as the Wolfsbane potion."

Chatter emerged from the Wizengamot, but Nott quickly brought order to the court.

Although Octavius was loyal to the cause, the man was almost _too_ fair as Minister.

This motion had to be quashed, and quickly. They needed to keep the status quo; fortunately, they found themselves in a closed session.

"I have safety concerns in regard to this potion." He said, lacing his voice with a tint of compassion. "The last thing we need is to think that those infected aren't a danger, only to have the potion fail."

A murmur of agreement washed a large portion of the Wizengamot.

"The Wizengamot recognizes Nymphadora Tonks, serving as proxy for Houses Black and Potter."

A younger Bellatrix Lestrange stood elegantly at the front of the room; thick black locks flowing to the small over her back as warm, violet eyes took everyone in.

The dueling champion looked every bit the pureblood princess.

"Would it not be better to allow werewolves to make that choice for themselves? The Ministry could hand out doses to those affected while providing a safe place for them to wait out the night, out of the public's way?"

"We have accrued too much debt to even entertain the idea." Amos Diggory dismissed from off to the side; much to the approval of several other representatives.

' _Bless the fiscal conservatives.'_ He thought with a smile.

But Tonks was prepared. "Houses Black and Potter are prepared to fund the studies and the distribution provided the ministry can provide the security."

Lucius was trapped, and he knew it. Word would get back to the werewolves if the Blacks and Potters supported the study financially, yet the Malfoy's did nothing.

On instinct he began acting.

"I'm inspired." He started, standing up to address the dumbfounded room. "By the graciousness of Houses Black and Potter."

' _Dammit_.' He thought as Dumbledore transfixed him with an amused look.

"If the Wizengamot will allow it, then the Malfoy Family will pay the salaries of those aurors asked to pick up an extra shift."

A couple of quick glances and his block joined Dumbledore's in passing the resolution. A rare bipartisan victory for the Wizengamot.

He noticed Runcorn shoot a glance across the room, before offering him a nearly imperceptible nod.

' _Let the fun begin.'_

"The Wizengamot recognizes Albus Dumbledore on issue 164.32c."

Dumbledore stood, facing the chamber with a certain calm confidence, the old man had spent months lobbying the votes necessary to pass his tax hike.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot. Last month you all received a proposal to raise taxes by 4%." Dumbledore started in his usual annoying tone.

You all are aware of the rise in dark activity surging throughout the continent – particularly in Bulgaria – while the attack on the Quidditch World Cup and the breakout at Azkaban have shown a real need to increase spending on our internal security; this tax would pay for that."

Both sides began shouting as he finished reading his motion.

' _He wouldn't call for the vote unless he thought he had the votes.'_

The motion was granted, and as the votes were being counted, he caught Antonio Goldstein's eye, and smiled.

The motion failed by one vote.

The Dark Lord would be pleased.

* * *

Minerva moved the lemon drop around her mouth with her tongue, enjoying the tart, citrusy taste of the yellow candy as she walked towards her classroom after a long end of the month meeting with Albus.

"Minerva!" A slightly out of breath Septima Vector called out from behind her.

She paused, taking a moment to bite into the hard candy, revealing a slightly alcoholic, lemony liquid savoring the taste of the sweet candy as she turned around.

The younger woman was completely disheveled and rambling, gesturing with her hands, her beautiful engagement ring twinkling in the torch light.

"Calm down, Septima." She said, pointing towards an empty room to her right.

The Deputy Headmistress's curiosity was piqued by the appearance of the normally unflappable Runes professor.

She followed the Head of Ravenclaw into the empty classroom.

"Now what is it?" She asked, her voice laced with unabated curiosity.

"It's about what you were talking about the other day in our meeting. I think Ms. Greengrass may have been right to come to you." The woman had calmed immensely since the pair had entered the room, and in the process captured her full attention.

The older woman stared at the Runes Professor intently, waiting for her to speak.

But Minerva McGonagall never heard her response as she felt something puncture her robes, taking her breath away.

Looking down she saw where the dragonhide-handled dagger had penetrated through her robes, straight under her breast and deep into her heart.

She began to shiver as she felt her life drain away.

She felt _pain_ as the dagger twisted cruelly, causing her to cry out silently.

The last thing Minerva McGonagall saw before succumbing to the darkness was the cruel smile of Septima Vector.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I don't own HP, but if JKR wants to share her wealth with me, I'm all for it.

* * *

She scratched her head in confusion as she re-read Elizabeth Atwood's essay on security wards.

' _Is she really this stupid?'_ Septima thought, before another thought occurred to her; _'Or does she think I'm this stupid?'_

A slight look of anger passed through her face before quickly fading. The assignment had been to make a simple adaptation to an existing medium-area security ward, not use her sisters work from two years prior.

She sighed in frustration, making a note to call for a disciplinary hearing for the child, academic dishonesty would not be tolerated.

Wards were a subtle art; combining patience, creativity, and an extreme level of control over ones emotions and magic. They were time consuming, dangerous, and – when done right – beautiful.

Few had the ability to properly cast – yet alone create – a unique ward scheme.

She did. As did Bill Weasley, the Dark Lord; and, to her delight – Harry Potter.

Septima felt a tug on the back of her mind as the paperweight on her desk glowed a light pink.

' _Speaking of wards…'_

"Come in Luna!"

Her door squeaked quietly.

She smiled serenely at the young girl in front of her.

Despite the straggly dirty-blonde hair; protuberant silvery eyes that carefully masked an underestimated intelligence; and an odd appearance that included a necklace made of butterbeer caps and earrings made of radishes, Septima had always had a soft-spot for Luna Lovegood.

Perhaps it was because they both grew up without mothers, that she had always been so protective of the child.

"How can I help you, Luna?" She asked, the slightest hint of worry in her voice - the young 'Claw had, on more than one occasion, been the victim of bullying; a practice she had worked hard to eradicate since taking over as Head of House.

Luna seemed to gaze intently at something behind her, before snapping her attention back to the Runes professor.

"The Headmaster wishes to see you, Professor. He said it is urgent."

Septima frowned; an urgent meeting with the aging warlock was hardly something to look forward to.

"Thank you, Luna, would you like me to walk you back to Ravenclaw Tower? Or are you fine on your own?"

The young girl simply smiled dimly before silently turning on her heel and skipping out of the professor's office.

The hazel-eyed beauty took a deep breath, calming herself while schooling her features into an unreadable mask.

There was no reason to be concerned - at least not in theory -the Headmaster routinely met with his four deputies.

Still, as always, she reached into the hidden drawer on her desk, removing the emergency portkey Bellatrix had provided her with years prior.

' _Better to be safe than sorry.'_ She thought as she began the long-journey across the castle and to the office of Albus Dumbledore.

The generally time-consuming task was shortened somewhat by the use of a few well-placed secret passageways, and in no time at all the warding professor found herself in front of the ancient wizard who had once struck fear into the hearts thousands.

"Septima." He greeted; the morose tone of his normally jovial voice setting her on edge instantly as she fingered the small talesman in her pocket.

"Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice."

"Of course, Albus." She replied, a hint of genuine concern in her voice. "What can I help you with."

The headmaster sighed, standing up abruptly; causing his long, grey hair to partially cover his weathered face.

Brushing aside the loose strands, he began to walk towards her with purpose.

"A few hours ago, your fiancée was attacked by an unknown assailant while visiting Diagon Alley."

Her hazel eyes widened in surprise; "is Sirius okay?" The concern in her voice was real - the last thing she needed was all of her hard work to go to waste.

"It appears as though he will make a full recovery; he is, however, in a medically induced coma while the healers at St. Mungo's tend to his injuries."

Septima closed her eyes as she let out a relieved sigh. "With your permission, Headmaster, I would like to visit him, no."

A quick nod of approval was all the answer she needed before grabbing a handful of floo powder and stepping into the fireplace.

"He's in a coma, Ms. Vector, so I'm not sure what you hope to accomplish." The rude healer stated as she led her through the lobby and into the wing of St. Mungo's reserved for nobility.

"Lord Black is my fiancée, Healer Vassar. I do not need a reason to visit him, especially after the ordeal he has gone through." The haughtiness, she had discovered, came naturally to her.

The healer started to compose a response but thought better of it before leading her into Sirius's private room.

"What can you tell me about his condition?"

At this, she appraised the professor with a cross look. "I am not at liberty to say; however, when Lord Black wakes up he is welcome to fill you in."

The healer _could_ tell her, of course – they were engaged after all – but they both knew she was under no obligation to do so.

' _At least not yet.'_

Septima eyed the woman in front of her with thinly veiled disgust. Helena Vassar, nee Franks, had been two years ahead of her at Hogwarts, and like herself, had grown up a halfblood in a society dominated by those purer then themselves.

Unlike Septima, the woman had neither the looks, nor the cunning, to improve her status.

"Very well, _Madam_ Vassar." She added with an edge, stressing the fact that she was, and always would be, beneath her; "leave us."

For his part, Sirius looked as though he was resting peacefully, the only outward sign that he had experienced any trauma being his labored breathing.

His peace was no doubt the result of the various potions he was obviously under.

Septima glanced around the room, quickly locating her fiancé's medical chart in the back-left corner.

Taking out a small dagger and vial from inside her robe, she cut a small incision on Sirius's inner left thigh, just out of eyesight.

Making sure to collect the blood in the vial she had snatched on her trek through the hospital.

St. Mungo's, for all their brilliance in securing their rooms against unauthorized magic, was horrifically ignorant of how simple muggle methods could beat even their strictest protections.

Taking the vial over to the sealed medical records, she carefully poured the man's blood on the appropriate seal, causing it to vanish instantly, only to be replaced by a detailed medical report.

" _... ruptured kidney...concussion... lacerations to the abdomen;" she_ mumbled softly, frowning in worry at the last bullet point " _…memory charm."_

That last line caused her to pause.

' _If its been detected, it will be reversed.'_ The best mind healers in Britain worked in these walls, it wouldn't be long before the charms were failed.

They had been able to stabilize Sirius after a decade in Azkaban, after all.

And years of her work would be ruined.

For the first time since she started playing her little game, Septima Vector didn't know what to do.

Covering her tracks, she hastily left the room. She needed to meet with Bellatrix; and soon.

* * *

He grimaced in pain as he reached for the pair of potions that had accompanied his breakfast.

The remnants of the previous night's lesson with Snape cut through his soul like a knife as he slowly downed the second of the two potions.

"What's he doing to you down there?" Terry asked through a mouthful of quiche.

He hated Snape.

He hated that he had to get used to torture just for a chance at survival.

He hated that he spent his free time preparing for a fate he likely couldn't overcome.

He hated that his fight with Daphne wasn't his biggest concern in life.

But you can't outrun fate.

True or not, Voldemort wouldn't leave a prophecy to chance, and if he wanted to live, he'd first have to fight.

He shivered in pleasure as the potions started to take effect, alleviating his pain.

"You have no idea, mate."

Terry began to respond but was cut-off by a desperate looking Septima.

The woman with the kind eyes and carefree smile wore a set of worry on her pretty features and looked disheveled.

"Good morning, Harry." She said, her smile more than a little bit forced. "Would you come with me?"

Harry stood up, briefly sharing a look with Terry before turning to follow Septima, struggling to keep up with his Runes professor as they exited the great hall and into the castle at-large.

"Is something wrong, Septima?" A tinge of anxiety in his voice, her demeanor having set him on edge.

"It's Sirius, Harry. He was attacked."

Harry stepped out of the floo and into the near-empty private lobby of St. Mungo's.

"What happened?" He asked as they passed through security.

Septima stopped, placing both hands on his shoulders as she looked him in the eyes.

He would have found the entire scene over dramatic and humorous, under different circumstances.

"We aren't sure. The second he woke up he asked for you."

They continued silently towards their destination, stopping in front of a set of thick, oak doors, his professor motioned for him to continue.

"The wards are keyed to you and you alone for now." She said, seeming a bit put out. "But do let me know how he's doing, will you?"

He nodded silently before stepping into the room, feeling a jet of warmth flow through him as the wards accepted his magic.

The room itself wasn't overly extravagant; a pair of nightstands flanked either side of his godfather's rather large bed, the bed was paired with an uncomfortable looking chair in the corner - the sound of a wireless crooning gently from its perch on the windowsill.

"Harry!" He said faintly.

Sirius was pale and sickly looking, appearing nearly as bad as when he'd first met him for lunch two years prior.

He must've let the worry show on his face, causing Sirius to speak up.

"Rupturing curse to the kidney combined with a myriad of nastiness, all courtesy of Antonin Dolohov." The pronouncement lacked the man-child's usual carefree tone.

"Death Eater?"

His godfather nodded his head. "One of the worst… I killed his wife in battle during the first war, his cell was a half dozen or so down from my own in Azkaban. He always did say he was going to kill me."

The seriousness in his godfathers statement was another reminder of the savagery of the last war.

The bad guys lost family members, too.

"What makes him worse than the rest?"

"What do you know about Death Eaters, Harry?" Was the reply he got.

Harry paused; _'what do I know about Death Eaters?'_

He thought hard for a moment; _'They follow Voldemort and execute his plans.'_

His ignorance surprised him.

"Not much."

His father's best friend stared intently at a spot on the wall behind him for several seconds before seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion.

"Death Eaters, for the most part, Harry, fall into five distinct categories."

His voice seemed to gain a bit of strength as he began his lecture.

"There are the passive supporters; those that support most of Voldemort's political aims, such as pureblood supremacy, ending restrictions on possessing certain items, or using certain magic."

Harry could emphasize with that, between his flying carpet and all the books he owned, combined with the spells he had practiced, Harry could earn himself a healthy vacation in Azkaban.

But hating someone based on blood had never made sense to him.

"For the most part, this group is left unmarked; they're the leaks in the ministry who alert Malfoy of an upcoming raid, or the bartenders who let the soldiers use their floo."

He nodded in understanding, patiently waiting for his godfather to continue.

"Then there's the ideologues; those who believe in the doctrine and are willing to get violent to enforce it.

They prey on muggles, woman, children, and anyone else weaker than themselves. They're attitudes don't mean they're skilled, just dispensable. In battles, they're the first to die; Voldemort's hope is that they thin the heard or take out a serious threat or two along the way."

' _Infantry.'_ He thought to himself, reminded of the foot soldiers his muggle teachers had taught him about in primary school.

"The third group." Sirius continued, no longer paying him any attention; "are the intellects."

"The intellects act as a sounding board for the Dark Lord; they're men like Augustus Rookwood; they provide Voldemort with knowledge, or the resources needed to mount a successful campaign."

Sirius paused to look at him. "If you're careful who you trust, you probably won't have to worry about the first three groups too much, Harry." His godfather said, a tinge of pride in his voice.

He nodded in affirmation. "What about the fourth group?"

"The savages." He said in disgust.

"They're like the ideologues, but violently competent. They're the members of the inner-circle who rape, kill, and torture for fun. They will kill without remorse and take great pleasure in doing so. This is the category Antonin Dolohov falls under."

He found the entire topic unpleasant.

"Why did you want to speak with me, Sirius?" He asked, remembering why he had come.

Their eyes met.

"I was nearly killed a few days ago, Harry." He stated seriously, taking a sip of water from a goblet on his nightstand.

"By an internationally wanted terrorist, in public, in broad daylight." The bluntness of his godfathers words caught him off guard.

As if sensing his thoughts Sirius admonished him. "A war is coming, Harry. It does no good shielding you from it." He said, pausing to take another sip of water.

"I need you to know, Harry." His godfather started softly. "That if anything should happen to me, you will be emancipated, and you will be in charge of two 'Ancient and Noble' houses; do you understand what that means?"

He gulped. _He_ would have twice as much voting power as anyone else.

' _Time to utilize Terry.'_

He hated the thought of it.

The gravity of his situation had suddenly hit him like a bludger.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing intently on the setting sun over the Strait of Dover, back at Flitwick's.

He had been so naïve then.

He found his center, and for a long moment he was at complete peace, causing a pleasant calm to overwhelm his senses; he felt the emotion fall from his face.

"The fifth kind of Death Eater, Sirius?"

His godfather stilled.

"The kingmakers, Harry. They combine intellect with cruelty; these are the best Voldemort has to offer, one kingmaker can shift the balance of the war. They're your Bellatrix Lestrange's, Lucius Malfoy's, and Severus Snape's. They're the Death Eaters Voldemort cannot function without; the spies who provide him with sensitive information and the generals that make his ideas come to life. Be careful who you share information with, Harry."

The comment made him think about his lessons with Snape.

"Snape's 'training' me, you know."

Sirius nodded sadly; "a necessary evil. One of the benefits of training with Snape is that he trains the Death Eaters, so at least you'll know what you're up against."

Harry grimaced as he thought about the cruel lessons but nodded his head in resolution.

"How can we trust Snape to train me, and not report to his master?"

His godfather eyed him sagely. "You can't." Sirius's response was direct and obvious, but in a grim way, he was glad for the honesty.

"Keep your circle small, Harry, and don't tell anybody about our conversations. Somehow the Death Eaters knew how to find me."

For the first time his calm, serious demeanor cracked.

"They found something, during their examination of me."

His godfather sounded fearful.

Sirius paused – as if remembering some long-lost secret; distinctly reminding him of their first meeting.

"Someone obliviated me, Harry." He said, softly; an edge of fear hitched to his normal cadence.

"There's a kingmaker in our midst's." Sirius then handed him a small, crystal vial.

"Don't show that to anyone, Harry." The finality in his voice left no room for argument.

Showing himself out the door he was greeted by a nervous looking Septima Vector clutching a copy of 'Transfiguration Weekly.'

"Did he tell you what happened?" She asked, her voice laced with concern.

He fixed his features into a frown, remembering what Sirius had told him seconds earlier.

"No." He let out a frustrated sigh. "All we talked about was quidditch. He's _still_ complaining about Puddlemore's play at keeper this season."

An amused smile tugged at the brunette's lips.

"Sounds like Sirius." She said with mirth. "Let's get you back to Hogwarts."

* * *

He was just finishing up dinner in Riddle's room when the door creaked open.

Despite his dour mood, he smiled at the well-groomed blonde that stepped through the entryway, before standing up to greet her with a hug in the middle of the room.

She smelt of cherry and a hint of vanilla as they both allowed the embrace to linger.

"How's Sirius?" She whispered into his ear, her voice soft and full of concern.

It surprised him, the effect those two simple words had on him, and for the first time in nearly a month he let his shoulders sag and his face show concern.

With anyone else he would hide behind a confident smile and a simple retort; but not with Daphne.

They were too similar, and she knew him too well; but more than anything, he _wanted_ to share that side of himself with her.

"He's weak and contemplative." He answered honestly. "But he should make a full recovery."

Her lips upturned to reveal a beautiful smile that accentuated her high cheekbones and sculpted jawline as her green eyes sparkled in the torchlight.

"He's strong." She answered immediately. "There aren't many people who could survive what he's gone through."

Her _confidence_ in those she believed in. That was one of the things he had missed the most in their weeks apart.

While Gabrielle was confident, it always came off as a facade, as though her own level of confidence rested solely on the re-assurances of those around her.

Daphne Greengrass didn't need such petty re-assurances. For better or for worse, Daphne believed what she said; whether she turned out to be right or not held no bearing on her persona.

"He is." He responded, remembering his conversation with the man from that morning. "The attack has taken a toll on his attitude, he's far more contemplative than I've ever seen him."

It was strange, he thought to himself, how quickly the pair had rediscovered their familiar cadence.

"How so?"

" _Keep your circle small…. There's a kingmaker in our midst…"_

The words of his godfather permeated his thoughts.

' _Do I tell her?'_ He thought, his eyes subtly seeking out the as-of-yet unopened box Sirius had given him.

"It's family stuff." He said apologetically.

No further explanation was needed; family trumped all in pureblood society, Daphne knew that.

Sensing the finality of his statement, Daphne smiled grimly, changing the subject.

"I recognized the potions you were taking this morning, are you okay?"

He grunted. "Snape is teaching me to 'fight through the pain.'" He said, his displeasure penetrating his voice.

To his mild surprise, Daphne nodded her head in approval.

"Good. You don't escape a real fight by stepping out of a circle."

She paused, glancing around the room in a nervous manner. Her mannerisms caused him to frown; Daphne got like this when she had something to say that he may not approve of.

"You're going to have to use that method on me, you know."

It was a statement, not a question, and he found himself at a loss.

' _Could I hurt Daphne like Snape hurts me?'_

The truth was he didn't know; he didn't _want_ to know.

Could he direct a torrent of anger and hatred at her? Could he _torture_ her, even if it was for her own benefit?

He shouldn't have to find out.

"You don't need to go through that, Daphne."

The answer sounded weak coming from his lips, and they both knew it was a lie. She had been on this path since before he even knew about magic, there was no way she was going to back down.

"Of course I do." She dismissed. "I'm going to kill her, I doubt it will be easy."

He didn't need to ask who she was talking about.

"I'm not sure I can cast those spells on _you,_ Daphne." His response was honest and full of emotion. "I don't want to see you in pain."

Her eyes narrowed and her body language screamed aggression. "I didn't know you were that selfish, Potter." She spat. "If you can't bear to see me in pain then _we're_ doomed if we ever need to fight."

She was right, of course. There were aspects of magic that were fueled by raw emotion and power, he was handicapped if he couldn't cast them on a whim.

She let him think as they sat quietly, enjoying each other's company for the first time in weeks.

"I saw you finished your poison." He commented sometime later, changing the subject to something less gruesome.

The thought nearly made him laugh. He was attempting to lighten the mood by talking about the poison his nearly fifteen-year-old girlfriend had brewed for fun, in her spare time.

The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on him.

"Parysatis's Poison." She said with pride. "The effects are quite visual."

Daphne proceeded to tell him, in great detail, about the poison concocted by the wife of Artaxerxes II to murder Stateir.

The subject didn't really hold his interest, but he found himself enjoying his girlfriends enthusiasm nonetheless.

"Why did you brew it?" For years he had wondered why she was so intent on brewing a poison. Surprisingly, it hadn't been a subject they had broached.

His girlfriend shrugged. "You never know when you may need a good poison." She paused for a second in contemplation. "I may use it on Avery, Malfoy, and Goldstein if McGonagall doesn't do something about them."

The trio of names caught his attention; two of the three had clear Death Eater ties while the third had been a thorn in his side since first year.

"What did they do?"

Daphne shivered slightly, a cruel smile washing over her beautiful face.

"I came across Avery teaching those two how to perform an obliviation in an unused classroom a few days ago… I told McGonagall, though."

He calmed himself, refusing to let anger overtake him. "We need to keep a closer eye on them."

Daphne gave him an emotionless nod. "Them and Astoria. Her relationship with the little shit puts her in too much danger."

* * *

She stepped quickly into the sparsely decorated lounge.

"You're late, Daph." Her sister teased from a small, round table in the center of the otherwise empty room.

The story was the same each week.

Every Tuesday she would receive an overly polite note from her sister inviting her to dinner that Thursday evening, forcing her to respond in kind.

When Astoria had first started sending her those little invitations she couldn't help but be annoyed - it wasn't as though they didn't talk with each other face to face on a daily basis.

But after a few weeks, she couldn't help but come to look forward to the beautifully written invitations; the dinner – the pageantry - had brought the two of them closer.

She smiled softly at her sister; who would always be the first to arrive, only to kindly point out Daphne's own tardiness when she inevitably turned up five minutes later.

Every week they went through this routine.

"I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"Only a few minutes." The brown-haired girl waved off.

Her sister looked physically better than she had in weeks. While always positive, the younger Greengrass didn't always look the healthiest.

Astoria's appearance made her smile, Daphne couldn't help but envy her little sister; despite her illness the girl never lost her caring demeanor.

She quietly conjured herself a comfortable chair, before slightly altering Astoria's for her; layering in a more advanced cushioning spell, throwing in a slight massaging charm for good measure, causing the younger girl to groan in delight.

"Thank you."

"Of course." She said dismissively. "How's Draco?" She started, no need to beat around the bush; Theo had told her that Draco had asked Astoria to the Yule Ball, and that she had said yes.

Pansy Parkinson had apparently been livid.

"It's Draco now, is it?" Her sister responded in amusement.

"He's taking you to the ball, the least I can do is be polite."

She didn't want to be polite. She wanted to warn Astoria, tell her what she had seen.

But she also remembered her father's wishes, and despite her misgivings, she would follow his directive; if push came to shove she could handle Draco.

Astoria smiled, brushing a strand of loose hair from her face.

For the first time she noticed the ornate diamond encrusted silver bracelet - complete with the Malfoy family crest - hanging from her wrist.

"Draco says his grandfather gave his grandmother this bracelet the night they stepped out publicly for the first time." Her sister replied to her gaze.

Draco's grandfather had been one of Riddle's original Death Eaters; a disgustingly violent man who was celebrated in the Prophet for his philanthropic ventures after he died of Dragon Pox.

" _Abraxas Malfoy, Ophelia, his death was no accident."_

She smiled internally. Bellatrix Lestrange really had told her Aunt everything.

Daphne looked up, indecision playing in her mind.

' _What do I tell an infatuated third year?'_

"Astoria; you know he's just using you, right?"

She didn't want to break her sisters heart, but she deserved better. Astoria deserved someone who cared for her, not someone seeing her because his father told him to do so.

"I know."

The response shocked her. She _knew?_

"What do you mean, 'you know'?"

"I'm not stupid, Daphne." The edge of a growl entered her sisters voice, reminding Daphne of her mother; another exceedingly empathetic woman who, when pushed, could roar like a dragon.

The situation reminded her of those arguments she'd share with her mother as a child.

"I never said you were, Astoria. But you're letting Malfoy use you for information about our family."

Astoria looked mildly upset at her statement but remained composed.

"Draco may have been using me, but I believe he genuinely cares for me now." The lithe girl sounded so confident.

"How can you be so sure?"

Astoria looked her in the eyes, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Our conversations have become far more conversational, over the last few months. There's no malice in his voice or on his features, and more indecision in our interactions." She started. "He's had opportunities to ask me deeply personal questions about our family, or to dig for information, and he has purposefully passed them up."

A devious smile crossed her faces; "you're not the only one in the family who knows legilimency, Daphne."

In that moment she desperately wanted to share what she had seen; to warn her of Avery, Goldstein, and Malfoy.

But she knew it would fall on deaf ears - if Astoria had made the same accusation about Harry she wouldn't believe her, and the two sisters were both too self-assured to be talked down without firm proof.

So, Daphne smiled back at her sister, giving her the impression that she approved and changed the subject, though the thought of the disgusting prat was never too far from her mind.

She would have to talk to Harry about this; Draco Malfoy, and his family were exceptionally dangerous, and they had set their sights on her family.

* * *

He laughed at Terry's antics as he took a sip of Earl Grey.

"I wanted to impress her parents." He said with a shrug and a smile. "I'm hoping they appreciated the effort."

Harry rolled his eyes; "I thought you _rich_ purebloods all spoke multiple languages."

Terry smiled; the 'Prophet' had filled the first three pages with a breakdown of the Wolfsbane potion, its effects, and most importantly - Melisa Boot, and her company.

When the markets opened the price per share of ' _Potent Potions'_ would soar, providing the Boots with an enormous financial windfall.

' _Don't forget about your own windfall.'_ He smiled; he had asked his financial advisor to invest a small amount in the company; with the approval of Wolfsbane, he could net a nice profit.

"I learned Greek and Italian - neither of my parents spoke French." Terry replied, disrupting his musings.

The pair sat in silence as they finished their breakfast.

"Thank you." Terry said sincerely.

He smiled warmly; "of course."

"My father said it looked as though Professor Tonks was enjoying herself."

And she _had._ The young dueling champion wouldn't shut up about getting the better of Malfoy.

"Theo says his father will sign the measure once it hits his desk; which should be by the end of the week."

"It's about time you get something useful from the prick." Terry grumbled. "You're wasting your time with him."

" _You're_ the one who insisted that I make alliances; and _you're_ the one who encouraged my relationship with Nott."

Terry sighed; "and I still think it can be valuable, but not if you're not more forceful. You have too much political clout that you're not using; if you wanted to you could threaten to call for a vote removing his father from office."

"And where would that get me, Terry? If we were to kick out Nott, Malfoy would likely be the replacement." He responded.

"Or Bones, or Dumbledore… Anyone can _choose_ to run." Terry countered flippantly.

"The dynamics of the Wizengamot are changing, just look at Dumbledore's failed attempt to raise taxes! If he can't garner support, then there's no sure thing, do we really want to put that position up for a vote?"

"I wonder what he's going to say?" A loud voice from down the table shouted, cutting off Terry's opportunity to respond was Michael Corner, who's off-hand comment drew the rest of the houses attention to Dumbledore, who was standing at the podium.

"Good morning, students." The wizened warlock stated softly.

The greeting elicited a half-hearted response from the students, many of whom were still trying to adjust to the first Monday in December.

"As many of you may have noticed, Professor McGonagall has been absent since Friday evening."

Apparently not many had noticed her absence, and the hall broke out in whispers, most turning towards the Gryffindor table where many of their classmates were sporting sad, nervous looks.

Harry couldn't help but feel a kinship towards the house of the lion in that moment, having experienced the loss of his own Head of House, and mentor, Filius Flitwick a few years prior.

"As of now, Minerva McGonagall has been listed as a missing person by the Ministry of Magic."

Unshed tears sat in the headmasters big, blue eyes as he spoke about his Deputy Headmistress and former protege.

"While the investigation is ongoing, I will pull double duty as both Headmaster and Transfiguration professor!"

His enthusiasm sounded forced, and the attitude in the great hall remained morose.

"Professor Babbling, in the meantime, has agreed to act as head of Gryffindor for the foreseeable future."

Harry glanced at his odd arithmancy professor, trying to imagine him as anything more than a barmy old man obsessed with numbers.

"Poor chaps." Terry stated from next to him.

He nodded his head in agreement before standing up to follow his classmates to potions.

* * *

It was a quarter after eight in Sofia when the 'Daily Prophet' arrived at her penthouse in the 'Ivan Vazov' neighborhood of Bulgaria's capital city.

' _Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress Missing!'_

The headline caught her attention during a sip of her espresso causing her to swallow hard before allowing a small smile to creep across her face.

While Minerva McGonagall had been one of her spies targets, she hadn't expected Septima to act so quickly.

' _I wonder what changed?'_ She thought to herself as she perused the first three pages of the periodical.

There were hardly any facts, it would seem; so that ghastly Skeeter woman had filled in the gaps with three pages worth of speculation on her fate.

The woman deserved to die for her reckless reporting. The bug-eyed woman's series of articles on her disappearance shortly after the fall of her Lord had proven that much; but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. The damn woman was far too _entertaining_ to eliminate.

She turned her attention towards the bland tawny owl clutching an equally bland package wrapped in brown paper.

Neatly unwrapping the paper, she was met with an envelope; and a small, marble statue of a familiar tawny cat.

A cruel laugh escaped her lips, causing the Dark Lady's guards to jump slightly in terror.

' _That solves that mystery.'_ She thought to herself, caressing the small statue gently, rubbing its cheek with her left thumb as she read the accompanying letter.

She snapped out of her revelry, an idea popping into her mind.

" _Bilyana!"_ She yelled, summoning one of her assistants. _"Fetch me a quill and some parchment!"_ She demanded in Bulgarian, an amused smile on her lips.

If the dumb bint hurried, Skeeter would receive the package by night-fall.

She'd have to steal the memory of her receiving this package from the disgusting witch before she killed her.

Bilyana was back with the quill and parchment in under two minutes, three minutes and a quick set of instructions later that same tawny owl was headed back to London.

* * *

Bill scratched a few words onto a piece of parchment before pausing to rub his forehead in frustration, as he felt the makings of a headache coming on.

He loved working for Gringotts as a cursebreaker; the challenge, travel, pay, and respect he received from his peers fed his sense of self-worth while also providing him the opportunity to live a comfortable lifestyle.

He could do without the paperwork though.

Shutting his eyes, the eldest of the Weasley children leaned back in his chair, causing the first two legs to lift off the ground.

A few seconds later he returned to his normal position with a sigh, eager to finish his paperwork before lunch.

He worked silently for a few more minutes before noticing a faint, golden glow coming from the snow globe of a dragon chasing a wizard around a field - a gift from his brother Charlie.

Opening his desk, he removed a blood-red ledger, checking the latest entry.

 _53.7306° N, 1.2345° W_

He frowned.

"Hey Rafael!" He yelled across the office, disrupting the work of his colleagues as they shot him frowns from around the room. "I'm going to take an early lunch."

Gathering his wand and his ledger, Bill quietly left Gringotts and made his way to Diagon Alley's apparation point.

It was the third time in as many weeks that Augustus Rookwood had visited that part of Yorkshire, and he was curious to see what kept drawing the man back to such a place.

As he reached the busy apparation point, the red-head disappeared with a soft * _pop*_ before reappearing in the backroom of a noisy pub a half-second later.

Gathering himself, he felt his ledger emit a lukewarm heat against his right breast.

' _He's somewhere around here.'_ He frowned; tracking charms could only do so much.

Stepping out into the elements he shivered as the frigid wind from the North Sea swept across him.

' _Welcome to Little Hangleton!'_ The sign read in bold, black lettering, as snowflakes fell onto his nose before immediately melting, the result of a heating charm.

' _What the hell is Rookwood doing in a muggle town?'_

Taking a right, he felt the ledger warm slightly, as he made his way down the winding road, and up towards the rolling, snow-covered hills.

He groaned as he trekked through the elements and into the hills, his ledger warming with each step.

Then he saw his target. One hundred meters or so ahead of him, a tall man in heavy robes was walking briskly towards... emptiness?

Then he disappeared.

Bill ran towards his target as the man made his way through a set of wards.

Removing his wand from its holster on his wrist, the cursebreaker was about to begin running some diagnostics before thinking better of it. _'No need to announce my presence.'_

The wards were no-doubt designed to inform the keeper of his disruption.

Checking the time, he sighed, realizing his lunch was nearly over.

Making a snap decision, Bill apparated again, this time to Ottery St. Catchpole and the Burrow.

He walked briskly through the light snow covering most of the garden, and towards the door of his childhood home.

"Bill!" His mother shouted in delight as he stepped through the door. "What a lovely surprise!"

"Hi mum." He said with a sheepish grin as Molly Weasley chattered on about the length of his hair.

"I can only stay for a few minutes, is your floo secure?"

Molly looked put out at his proclamation before answering his question; "the headmaster secured it himself."

He nearly laughed in amusement at the irony.

"Would you mind if I borrowed it for a few minutes?"

Not waiting for a reply, he grabbed some floo powder, calling for the headmaster as he threw the dusty powder into the fireplace.

"Albus!" He shouted as his head floated in the headmasters fireplace.

He ignored the judgement from the portraits on the walls as they chastised him for his manners, opting to wait politely for Dumbledore to make his way into his office and towards the floo.

"William! A most pleasant surprise." The headmaster called out in delight. "What brings you to my office?"

"Rookwood."

At his statement the elderly man's face got serious and his wand was quickly in motion.

"What about him?" He asked when his wand finally stopped moving ten seconds later.

"He's gone to the same place three times over the last three weeks; a small muggle village in Yorkshire, Little Hangleton."

The old man's eyes dawned in recognition as he stroked his beard in thought.

"Where does he go?"

Bill got the feeling that Dumbledore was looking for affirmation as opposed to information.

"I don't know." He confessed. "I followed him up into the hills, but he disappeared. I thought it best to alert you."

Albus eyed him through his spectacles, a contemplative look on his face.

"Keep monitoring him, and don't touch those wards; I will be calling an Order meeting for early next week, do let your parents know."

Bill nodded his head in agreement, recognizing a dismissal when he saw one.

Removing his head from the fire, he looked at his mum and relayed Dumbledore's information as he moved towards the door.

"When did you begin calling the headmaster by his given name, William?" His mother retorted before he could leave.

"When he asked me to." He said, pushing some finality into his voice, causing his mum to end her line of questioning; he loved her, but she had a habit of sticking her nose into places it didn't belong.

As he reached the doorway he stopped, turning back towards his mother; he hadn't been by in weeks, and now he swings by for five minutes to use her floo at lunch?

He sighed. With all her children either at Hogwarts or living on their own, his mum had been dreadfully lonely.

"Would you mind if I stopped by for dinner tomorrow?"

The middle-aged witch perked up in excitement. "You're welcome whenever you want, Bill, you never need permission to stop by." She said with a wide smile, which he returned enthusiastically before exiting the Burrow and apparating back to Gringotts.

* * *

Harry shut his book with a dull _*thud. *_

"I'm bored."

The girl in the loose fitting green robes perusing the rooms small stack of books turned to face him, a curious glint in her green eyes.

"What do you suppose we do?"

He paused to take a look around their room, taking the time to admire the oak loveseat with velvet upholstery he was currently sitting on. It had taken him days to weave the cushioning enchantments with the enchantments to make it stain proof.

He tapped his fingers nervously on the table in front of him.

"How about we check out the Chamber of Secrets?"

She eyed him blankly for several long seconds, allowing the possibilities to play out in her mind.

"It's too dangerous." She finally responded.

He huffed in frustration, standing up to meet her.

"You've encouraged me to learn all sorts of magic, including from Voldemort, for _years_ but you don't want to explore one of the few legends this world has left? I thought you wanted this, isn't that why you kept Riddle's identity from me?"

She _smacked_ him, the sound reverberating around the stone room. "Don't you _ever_ insinuate that I'm discouraging you from learning." She started.

He rubbed his cheek gingerly with his left hand.

She continued; "remember the locked drawer? You could have been killed."

He frowned as he glanced over the shelf containing vials of the poison Daphne had brewed.

Harry had been a novice when he had last tried to open the drawer, he had barely studied runes, yet alone ward schemes and theory.

He had been too impulsive, and it had almost cost him.

' _Do I want to risk it?'_ He and Daphne had just made up, did he really want to risk another fight?

"I'm going to at least go and run some diagnostic spells."

Daphne growled, but followed him out of the room nonetheless.

The pair were given a wide-berth as they walked the corridors leading to the second-floor girls lavatory.

It was strange, he thought as they passed a group of fifth years who were shooting he and Daphne nervous looks as they walked by, to think that people were afraid of them.

They had never attacked or bullied a single student, yet rumor, their aptitude for dueling, and being placed in advanced classes had given them this _reputation._

They stopped in front of a worn, wooden door; "you go in first." He commented. "Scare out anyone who's in there."

She smiled wickedly. "Will do."

He relaxed at her response; despite his assertiveness in wanting to visit the Chamber, he truly didn't want to risk another fight with Daphne.

The fact that she appeared to be eager to see Slytherins mythical chamber for herself calmed him.

A few seconds later she popped her head out, motioning for him to come in.

Stepping through the doorway he frowned.

The loo's at Hogwarts were generally well-maintained, but that wasn't the case for this particular lavatory.

Faded stall doors hung loosely on their hinges, a puddle of water sat undisturbed in the corner while two of the four torches in the loo were extinguished.

The entire room was _eerie._

"What the hell happened here?"

Daphne shrugged; "Moaning Myrtle normally haunts this place. I don't think people come in here often."

He accepted the explanation easily enough; the last thing anybody wanted was an insane ghost rambling at you while you tried to use the loo.

Remembering Riddle's instructions, he made his way to the appropriate sink before taking a knee and examining the plumbing underneath.

He smiled as he saw a single, stationary snake engraved on the back of one of the pipes, he had been waiting for this opportunity for years.

Seemingly reading his mind, Daphne loudly cleared her throat.

He sighed as he removed his wand from its holster, moving it in a simple pattern before letting out a smile.

"There are no protective wards on the entrance." He stated in giddiness.

Daphne took out her own wand, repeating his spell.

' _Did she really think I didn't check?'_ The lack of faith stung a little.

Begrudgingly he let it go, returning his attention to the plumbing in front of him.

The small snake was hard to pin down, wiggling just out of view every time he tried to get close.

From behind him Daphne wore an amused look on her face; causing him to redden in frustration.

" _Stop!"_ He hissed, startling himself – he hadn't meant to switch into parseltongue, the change occurring naturally.

The snake stopped instantly, allowing him to get closer.

Concentrating on speaking directly to the snake, he spoke again.

" _Open."_ He hissed.

The two watched in awe as the bricks separated, revealing a dark, dimly lit staircase descending deep into the bowels of Hogwarts.

Harry cast a few more spells to ensure their safety before stepping unharmed into the dirty passageway.

Daphne soon followed, and the pair slowly made their descent towards the Chamber of Secrets.

His girlfriend looked around the narrow passage in disgust; "scourgify!" She mumbled under her breath, cleaning a swath of the dirt and grime from the stairs in front of them.

Harry repeated her actions, cleaning each stair as they made their long descent towards one of the world's most fantastical legends.

Tom Riddle's research had referenced several scholarly essays on the topic of the founder's secret chamber and what Historians could learn. Everything from lost knowledge to a portrait of the founder himself was rumored to occupy the space, and that wasn't even including whatever Voldemort had left in there.

They stopped suddenly. The stairs having led them to a plain brick wall.

Remembering what he had learned about illusions, Harry crept closer, a feeling of dread overcoming him as he did so.

' _This isn't right.'_ He told himself. _'We need to leave, NOW!'_ Harry paused muting the thoughts clouding his mind, not recognizing the ward scheme attached to the wall.

From his right he could see Daphne trembling slightly.

Furrowing his brow, Harry cast several spells, hoping to figure out what was protecting the Chamber.

His frown deepened as the wall in front of him rapidly changed from green, to orange, to blue.

He had never come across this unique set of wards and took a moment to examine the arithmancy powering the security measures, making sure to note them in his ever-expanding journal.

"It's an illusion combined with a severing ward and some sort of trauma ward… I think."

Combining the two individual wards with what he assumed was a custom-made trauma ward to create an entirely new scheme was clever – if anyone wanted to dissect the ward they would have to overcome the trauma ward, which was no small feat.

' _I wonder if I put my occlumency shields on blast if that would neutralize the trauma ward?'_

Daphne shivered as she raised a manicured eyebrow; "you think?"

He let out a groan, knowing what her response meant, this would end his trek for the day. "I need to do some research to confirm."

Daphne's green eyes shined with approval, lifting his spirits slightly despite the situation.

"Good." She stated simply. "We can comeback when you're certain."

Harry nodded his head in tepid agreement before turning on his heel. Despite the outcome, he found himself smiling as they made their way back towards the castle. Riddle's signature had been all-over that illusion, whatever he was hiding, Harry would discover it soon enough.

* * *

"Now close your eyes."

Sirius closed his eyes, making sure to control his breathing as he did so.

"Very good, now tell me about that summer."

Sirius took another deep breath, clearing his mind.

The process took several minutes, he never had been the best Occlumens.

Sirius had been working with Healer Adams for nearly a week now as he recovered slowly from the attack.

After several hours of probing, they had first discovered that his memory was altered in the summer of 1993, now they were trying to discover when, and more importantly _where_ his mind was altered. Once they were able to accomplish that, the _who_ would generally answer itself.

"It was Harry's thirteenth birthday at Grimmauld Place." That's where the remnants of the charm could be traced to.

He imagined Healer Adams shaking her head in approval, a bright smile on her full lips.

"What did you get him for his birthday?" She asked softly.

The Obliviation Charm was one of the most commonly misunderstood charms he had come across. You couldn't just _erase_ a memory from someone's mind, like most thought; rather those who had studied the charm new it was much more complicated than that.

When cast properly, the charm acted in two parts.

First as an internal notice-me-not charm, diverting his attention away from the affected memories. Second the charm then slightly alters the desired memories, just in case a discovery is made. The latter acted as a fail-safe against the former, giving the charm an added layer of protection.

"Several books, a set of dueling robes, some sweets."

Sirius paused, he _knew_ there was something else there.

' _There was another gift.'_

Sensing his frustration, Healer Adams cut in; "who else was there for Harry's birthday? Can you tell me that?"

The entire session reeked of deja-vu; he had been stuck at this point for days.

He took a deep breath, taking his time to search for the answer.

' _We were at Grimmauld Place; me, Harry…'_ He thought hard, his brow furrowing in frustration; he knew who he _thought_ would be there but making guesses would only hamper his recovery.

Memory charms were difficult to undue. Once the specific event was identified, the healer would have to slowly work to undue every aspect of the charm; one wrong move and Sirius could lose his mind for good.

He took another calming breath.

' _Me and Harry…'_ He thought as he felt something tug at his mind.

Following the tug, he saw Remus.

"Besides Harry and I, Remus Lupin was there in shabby grey robes. I handed him a sack full of galleons and told him to buy some new ones. He initially refused, but Harry told him couldn't be seen in public next to someone dressed so shabby."

"Very good, Sirius." The soothing voice of Healer Adams seemed so distant.

Staying in his meditative state, he saw another flash; a young woman with long, pink hair in stylish black robes.

"Nymphadora Tonks, my cousin, the duelist was also there." He added. "I remember telling her that her robes were a little too form fitting for my liking. Septima mocked me over that comment for a week!"

The realization hit him like a pile of bricks, crashing into him and making him lose his focus.

Opening his eyes, he saw Healer Adams smiling at him, her curly red hair glistening in the sun.

"I had just given Harry tickets to the London Invitational."

He shivered involuntarily. ' _Is that where it happened?'_

The mind healer gave him a large grin; "I think that's enough for today, Lord Black."

"Do you think I'll make a full recovery?" He asked hope permeating through his voice.

He didn't like the fact that someone had tampered with his mind. The thought scared him; if you couldn't be safe within your own mind, could you be safe anywhere?

She nodded her head in affirmation; "you have isolated the main events, it won't be long now."

He let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Rose. I'd be lost without you."

The middle-aged woman blushed prettily at the compliment. "It takes a strong man to go through the process of healing his mind."

It was his turn to blush as the attractive witch packed up and headed towards the exit.

Neither noticed the rat that followed Rose Adams out the door.

* * *

She sat motionless under a disillusionment charm in the back, left corner of her room, giving her a perfect view of the door.

She was waiting for Septima to show up to this _urgent_ meeting she had called.

' _She's late.'_ She thought angrily.

Several minutes passed before the rotting, wooden door opened, revealing the hazel-eyed Head of Ravenclaw.

"You're late." She admonished.

Septima didn't immediately respond, trotting purposefully towards her, greeting her with a passionate kiss.

She felt her lovers tongue slide across her lips, begging for entry.

Septima Vector was just an angry third year when Bellatrix met her; a bundle of talent alone in the world, surrounded by destruction, begging for someone to show her the way.

Look at her now.

"Sorry." The beautiful woman responded a minute later. "Dumbledore has asked me to replace McGonagall as Deputy Headmistress, I got held up over paperwork."

She frowned internally. She never knew what the woman craved more; her, or power.

Outwardly she smiled, Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts - not a bad accomplishment for a woman still in her twenties.

"What about Snape?"

It was no secret that Dumbledore trusted the man completely, while Septima's promotion was a pleasant surprise, she had expected Snape to be in the better position.

"Severus is a capable wizard, but a poor professor who most of the school abhors. I was the logical choice."

Her smile widened; Septima had positioned herself masterfully.

' _She's learned well.'_

"Very impressive, Septima." She said, deciding to pay her spy a compliment. "I enjoyed receiving your statute, it was a nice touch."

Septima blushed, "thank you."

"You said you had information for me?"

The slightest bit of indecision passed over the features of Septima Vector.

"Sirius knows he's been memory-charmed."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes.

' _I was dragged to Hogsmeade for this?'_

"Yes, I know. My cousin will have to be eliminated."

Septima gave her an angry look.

"And waste two years of my life? We need to find another way."

She contemplated her words; leaving Sirius alive would risk exposure but keep their plan intact.

' _It's not worth the risk.'_

"You'll just have to convince Potter to name you Lady Black."

"You cannot be serious!"

Bellatrix smiled, she couldn't resist the taunt.

"No, I'm Bellatrix!" She said in a cruel, mocking tone, raising her wand to Septima's throat.

Septima didn't flinch, meeting her challenge.

The woman was fearless.

"Your position at Hogwarts is more important than the Black gold. Now do you have anything useful for me, or not?"

She harrumphed.

"Harry and Greengrass believe they know where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is, I thought it could be useful."

Bellatrix's blood ran cold.

' _How the hell did they know that?'_

One of the Dark Lords most treasured secrets was known by Potter and Greengrass.

"Did they say _how_ they came across this information?" She asked; her voice a deadly calm.

Her change in demeanor caused Septima to take a step back involuntarily.

"Someone named Riddle told them."

She shivered again; _'did Dumbledore tell them?'_

Then another, more devastating thought occurred to her. _'Did Ophelia save those memories?'_

' _Of course she did.'_ She realized. Those memories were priceless in the right hands; if Potter and Greengrass had access to them…

"Thank you, Septima. You may leave."

The younger woman frowned; "my _other_ assignment is going well. Don't you want to hear about that?"

The woman was so needy, always seeking approval.

"Tell me in a letter." She snapped, before composing herself.

"You've done exceptionally well, my love." She added, her voice much softer as she kissed her lightly on the lips. "Now I need you to go."

Poor Septima lost her entire family in the waning days of the war. Bellatrix honestly had no idea who killed her family; her forces, or the Ministry's.

But she had taken the child in, given her an outlet for her anger and her need to prove herself, teaching her everything Bellatrix knew.

Much like Ophelia Greengrass had done for her.

She frowned. She would have to be more cautious than dear Ophelia.

As Septima reached the door, Bellatrix called out one last time - the question having escaped her lips before she could temper herself.

"My nephew Draco, how are things going with him and Astoria Greengrass?"

Septima turned around, offering her a perfect smile.

"They're attending the Yule Ball together, and Draco has given her the bracelet Abraxas gave Lucile Yaxley."

Their son Lucius was starting to become a thorn in her side as well with his clumsy attempts at extracting information.

"Thank you, Septima. We'll talk soon."

Bellatrix left the room ten minutes later, her life significantly more complicated than when she had arrived.

* * *

' _McGonagall Killed by Lestrange!'_

Read the headline of the Prophet on the first Sunday in December.

Skeeters article seemed to dampen the spirits of the normally boisterous student body. While not unexpected, the murder of their transfiguration professor had been unsettling, to put it mildly.

Around the Great Hall a kaleidoscope of emotions played out on the faces of the rooms occupants.

Disgust, sympathy, and, above all else, _fear_ rang out among the hall.

If Bellatrix Lestrange could get to Minerva McGonagall, a woman who rarely left the safe confines of Hogwarts, who would be next?

Up at the staff table he saw a new emotion playout on McGonagall's replacement; anger.

Septima appeared to be angry at what she was reading in the Prophet, and he couldn't blame the new Deputy Headmistress - McGonagall was a wonderful teacher and a well-respected member of the community; for her to be murdered in cold blood, after all she had done for generations of Hogwarts students was unfathomable.

He was disturbed from his observations by a tap on his shoulder.

"Mr. Potter." A nervous looking Ravenclaw said. "Mr. Bagman wants to see all the duelists down at the quidditch pitch.

Across the hall he could see similar messages being delivered to Daphne and a handful of other students.

Harry smiled and thanked the small, pale boy before catching Daphne's eye and motioning towards the door.

"What do you think this is about?" Daphne asked quietly as they followed their contemporaries into the frigid December cold.

He cast a warming charm on himself as they stepped onto the magically snow-free stone path, heading towards the quidditch pitch.

"I'm not sure." He started, grabbing Daphne's hand is in his, allowing their fingers to entwine. "Tonks did tell us that there could be surprises."

She accepted his response, choosing to prepare herself mentally rather than give him an answer.

A low whistle drew his attention forward.

In front of him, the quidditch pitch had been structurally transformed from a thin, oval shape, complete with bleachers on either side of the pitch; to a circular structure surrounded by seating, and a number of monitors floating above to display the action.

A monitor outside the structure showed the circular arena had been partitioned into four distinct landscapes; a thick forest, an open field, several small rocks surrounded by water, and a ruined cityscape greeted the competitors inside.

On the outside of the arena, the thick snow danced in the wind, bouncing off an invisible set of wards.

The whole display looked like some sort of inverted snow globe.

Ludo Bagman greeted the group as they entered through the wards.

"Welcome everyone, to the battle portion of the dueling competition!" The former beater said with gusto, causing his fellow competitors to whisper excitedly amongst themselves.

"Today's competition is simple; last person standing, wins!"

Harry found himself grinning widely at the proclamation; ever since he had seen Tonks compete in a battle he had been yearning to try this type of dueling out for himself.

"The pitch, as you can see, has been transformed into four distinct arena's, the last person standing in each quadrant will be able to move about the arena freely!"

"What are the rules?" An athletically built Russian grunted out from a few meters away.

Harry recognized him as Petr Federov, the Durmstrang seventh year who should have been their champion.

At this Bagman shot Dumbledore a look.

"There shall be no immediately lethal spells, or the use of spells that cannot be reversed. There is a full team of healers on standby shall we need them, this event is meant to test your awareness and skills in a battle situation."

There was more than a hint of sadness to the headmasters normally jovial voice.

Federov accepted the answer with a nod as Bagman quickly explained the rest of the rules before assigning each competitor a quadrant.

Harry took his designated place in the third quadrant, nestled between a moss-covered rock and a swath of trees, taking his time to observe his surroundings.

He was situated on a small hill, providing him with a clear line of sight of the rest of the quadrant.

Along with himself five other people waited nervously at their stations, waiting for the horn to signify the start of the competition.

Of his five immediate competitors, Corine Bletchley posed the biggest threat; the seventh year Slytherin Prefect had come close to winning the sixth and seventh year dueling title the previous spring, coming up just short after a well fought battle in the final.

The others would provide little threat to him; Marietta Edgecombe could barely hold a wand while the other two looked equally incompetent.

" _3,2,1, BEGIN."_ Bagman's voice shouted, signifying the start of the battle.

Harry was immediately off, deciding to focus his efforts on Corine while letting the other three defeat themselves.

He moved swiftly to the right, partially down the hill and towards the thick forest where he had seen Corine on her platform just seconds before.

The trees blotted out the unnatural light, causing him to walk quietly through the foliage in near darkness.

The density of the forest filled the air with oxygen and the smell of mud and pine needles, he found the entire experience to be slightly disorienting.

' _Maintain your focus, Potter!'_

A twig snapped somewhere to his left, as a French wizard appeared a dozen meters ahead of him.

He remained out of site, pondering his next move.

He had been waiting for an opportunity to practice his long-distance casting, and the unsuspecting wizard had provided him with an excellent opportunity.

He continued to stalk his victim for several minutes, deciding to act when they stopped.

Harry paused briefly, formulating a plan in his mind before lying flat on his stomach and taking aim at the clueless bastard.

He had the higher ground and using the trunk of a thick oak tree as cover, Harry inhaled calmly, focusing his magic as Dumbledore had mentioned, and Moody had taught him.

' _Stupefy.'_ He thought.

The spell, normally a thick, red light, came out as a narrower, finely tuned beam.

It rushed forward, hitting the poor sap straight in his chest, ending his battle before it ever really began.

He continued to make his way through the forest listening for any disruptions that may clue him into Corine's location.

He didn't have to wait for long as a puff of smoke appeared ahead of him and to the right.

Silencing himself, Harry took off at a sprint, hoping to pick off another victim.

He soon came across a creek bed where Edgecombe had apparently teamed up with the Durmstrang boy to attack Bletchley on their own.

The strategy was sound – neither could take the witch on their own.

They probably planned on using the same strategy on him.

Casting a disillusionment charm over himself, Harry waited for a quarter minute before losing his patience.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he animated the exposed roots of a tree to attack his housemate, while Bletchley finished off the Durmstrang boy.

The pair faced each other, quietly, a curious look settled on the ugly girls horse-like face.

Bletchley was tall and lanky, reminding him of his estranged aunt.

He smiled, moving quickly, refusing to start the battle on the defensive, he sent a handful of slashing curses and bludgeoning hexes at his opponent.

The Slytherin girl deflected each spell with ease before rapidly returning fire.

Harry didn't have to block her first wave of spells, choosing to run forward in a zig-zag pattern, keeping close to the ground to minimize himself, he closed the gap between them before ducking behind a large boulder.

Smiling, he tapped his head and marveled as the illusion took hold, and a half-dozen Harry Potter's appeared in various strategic locations, surrounding his remaining opponent.

Corine shot one of the illusions a frustrated glare before unleashing a burst of fire from her wand, lighting up the whole area and causing his illusions to fail.

He frowned, having expected the his spell to last longer.

' _I'll have to work on those.'_ He thought to himself.

Maintaining his composure, Harry took aim again; _'fulminis!'_ He retaliated as a large bolt of black lightning came crashing down on his opponent, filling the girl with electricity, causing her to drop her wand and writhe in pain.

He heard the crowd gasp slightly but put it out of his mind as he felt the wards containing him begin to disappear.

The rock was slippery; she thought as she took a glance around.

She was surrounded by a moderately sized body of water, interconnected by various sizes of rocks, none bigger than a standard dueling platform.

' _I just had to be put in this stupid quadrant.'_ She frowned, envying Harry's position.

She took a glance around at her opponents.

Constantine Heidelberg, her opponent from the first set of duels, stood on a formation to her left, while one of his classmates, a close-shaven, mousey boy stood on a platform to her right; a pair of unknown witches and Angelina Johnson stood across from her.

She noticed the subtle glance the two Durmstrang students were giving each other.

' _They're going after me.'_ She realized.

Constantine had been furious at her after his defeat and had spent the last several weeks glaring at her when he thought she wasn't looking.

' _Maybe if he had spent as much time on dueling as he fantasizing about me he'd have a chance.'_ She smirked.

The horn sounded, and the battle began.

Daphne immediately erected a large, golden dome; the slick rock platform she was occupying had made it impossible to dodge without falling into the water below.

Her hunch paid off as a handful of spells died on her shield a half second after the horn sounded.

The spells stopped, and Daphne leapt into action; sending a horde of piercing curses at the unknown boy.

Her wiry target bounced to a new platform, but she didn't let up, spraying a vat of acid at the boy; hitting him in the face, causing him to hiss in pain.

The boy tried to retaliate, but was no match for her onslaught.

The slight boy dropped his wand before jumping into the water, ending his battle.

' _Coward.'_ She thought in disgust.

In her haste to defeat the unknown boy, Daphne had opened herself up to Constantine's attack, and she felt a burst of magic tear through her robes and into her back.

She hissed in pain as she felt blood seep from the wound caused by the boys severing charm.

The wound hurt like hell, but she'd taken worse.

' _You'll have to do better than that.'_ Daphne snarled in anger before a calm passed through her, and she knew what to do.

Smiling, she pointed her wand downwards, hitting the water in front of the long-haired redhead with an overpowered _'Ignem Aestifer.'_

The hellfire caused the water surrounding her opponents platform to boil violently, creating a thick plumage of steam that began to envelope Heidelberg.

The Durmstrang champion let out a series of pained, labored, screams as the steam began to burn his exposed skin as large blisters began to cover his neck and face.

Heidelberg was eliminated, and Daphne idly heard the referee issue her a warning, but she didn't have time to savor her victory, pointing her wand at the nearest rock, she transfigured it into a large bridge that would lead her to Johnson.

Her final opponent was the only person in the competition to be competing in both the dueling _and_ quidditch portions; the Gryffindor champion, she frowned, may have a _slight_ edge in athleticism, but she was the better duelist.

The thought calmed her as Johnson closed the distance, seemingly having decided to end their duel on the bridge as opposed to the rocks.

' _Smart.'_ She noted.

The black girl had removed her ability to dodge, which, in the Gryffindor girls mind, was the only reason Daphne was successful.

The waves beneath them began to rock her shabby rope bridge back and forth as a gust of wind tore through the arena, causing her hair to dance in the wind.

Daphne smiled a cruel smile, hastily closing up the wound on her back before launching into her attack.

Johnson shielded expertly, not slowing her pace.

The chaser, despite her athleticism, spent most of her defensive efforts on shielding instead of blocking, leaving her susceptible to being overpowered.

She let up her attack briefly, giving the older girl a quick opportunity to counter while she caught her breath.

Daphne parried several spells quickly before the need to finish the battle overtook her.

" _Isboller!"_ She said softly, before repeating the incantation several more times.

At each proclamation several spheres of ice shot out of her wand.

Her opponent made to hastily shield, only to see her shields fail, allowing several of the sharp spheres to embed themselves in Angelina Johnsons chest.

A light breeze caused the neck-high grass to sway as he stepped out of the forest and into the field.

The position put him in an unfavorable position as he stepped into the largely exposed quadrant.

He immediately ducked low, pausing to come up with a plan.

It would take him forever to find the remaining duelists in this grass.

He smiled as he realized what he had to do, and with a flick of his wand the landscape was ablaze.

Hot fire and thick smoke tore through the arena as he applied a bubblehead charm to himself and waited patiently for the prey to come to him.

He kept low as a well-built Slytherin sixth year jumped into his path.

The boy barely had time to react before Harry stunned him.

At the other boys defeat, a loud horn cut through the arena, and the circle surrounding the competitors began to contract and shift, leaving the four remaining competitors to each occupy a corner of a small, square, muggle park complete with swings, trees, and a slide.

If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn the park was the one Dudley used to chase him around as a child.

Diagonal and to the right he saw Daphne, he used the small break in the action to catch her eye and offer her an encouraging smile.

The blonde girl stood across from Petr Federov, the mean-looking seventh year from Durmstrang.

Opposite him, a pretty French witch in a ponytail was eyeing him with disdain.

He barely had time to take her in before her rapid spell fire was raining him down.

Harry dodged expertly in return, dancing around the increasingly dangerous set of spells, drawing her towards a small smattering of trees.

A piercing curse tore through one tree, causing a piece of wood to splinter off and shallowly impale itself in his abdomen.

He grit his teeth, moving to his left gingerly, returning fire with a dozen conjured, burning arrows, causing the French witch to put up a hasty defense.

' _She's not used to being on the defensive.'_ The girl with the ponytail was exceptionally quick and was probably used to finishing off her opponents in one salvo.

With that realization, Harry pushed himself out of the trees, unleashing a barrage of spells from his wand, hoping to bring down the witch's shields.

Finally, he broke through, hitting the witch with a combination of a concussion and trauma hex that he had learned from one of Riddle's diaries.

The combination of dizziness and terror rendered the girl useless as he turned to see a bloodied Daphne getting taunted by a laughing Federov.

The Durmstrang boy casually threw spells at the rapidly tiring girl who was covered in blood.

Anger flowed through him as he hurled several pain curses towards the cruel boy.

Noticing him for the first time, Federov hit his girlfriend with an unknown orange curse, knocking her over instantly.

Daphne began to spasm violently as healers appeared near instantaneously.

The older wizard turned to Harry and paused.

For a second the two foes faced each other; Harry, his robes stained red with blood, Federov untouched.

It was Harry that broke the calm; conjuring several jagged, metal discs and sending them at the Russian boy in front of him.

Federov conjured a slab of stone to absorb their impact before launching into his own torrent of spells.

Harry rolled forward and onto his feet before quickly batting away another spell, returning fire with one of his own.

"Very good, Potter." His opponent taunted. "Almost as good as I was at that age."

Harry growled, sending a series of curses back at his opponent.

He watched as the older boy dodged.

' _Left, back, left, forward, right, right, left, back, left, forward, right, right…'_

He smiled grimly, memorizing the boys pattern.

Timing the boys movements perfectly; Harry unleashed an organ rupturing spell, followed by a bone splintering hex right as his opponent moved to take a step forward.

Federov howled in pain as both spells hit him in the chest, but he didn't give up, returning fire with a series of powerful bone breakers back his way, catching him in the left arm.

Harry grimaced, but didn't budge; transfiguring several pebbles into a swarm of bees and directing them back towards Federov, hoping the nuisance would buy him several seconds of precious time.

To his surprise, instead of taking care of the bees, the older boy allowed himself to get stung, returning fire with a dark red spell that rotated towards him like a boomerang.

Harry attempted to dodge, but the spell changed course, chasing him around the arena before catching him in his ribs.

Blood came flying out of his mouth as Thor's Hammer shattered his rib cage and punctured his lung.

His breathing was labored as he came to a horrifying conclusion.

' _I'm going to lose.'_

The thought of looking weak in front of all these people, on an international stage, terrified him.

He couldn't allow it to happen.

Mustering up his remaining strength; Harry rolled behind a wooden bench, remembering a piece of advice Snape had given him.

" _Pathetic Potter."_ Snape sneered as Harry struggled to his feet. _"What would you have done if this was a real war? If I was trying to kill you?"_

His breathing was getting more and more difficult as he remembered Snape's lesson.

" _There will come a time when you are facing a hostile enemy who has you beat and is looking to end your life."_ His instructors voice had almost sounded sympathetic in that particular moment.

" _What will you cast to save your life?"_

He had pondered that thought for days, and had spent hours perfecting his _pis aller._

Harry grimaced and gathered his strength, rising to his feet.

With as much agility as he could muster, he hobbled to take cover behind a large sycamore tree, howling in pain as a bone breaker shattered his ankle.

From somewhere in the distance Federov laughed.

' _He's toying with me.'_ He realized, the thought infuriating him even more.

His arm shaking in pain and exhausting, he raised his wand.

' _Jahannam.'_ He cast with a cruel smirk, before repeating the spell twice more.

Several balls of beautiful, black flame rocketed towards his opponent who's eyes were wide as saucers at his reckless use of the Arabic spell.

The small balls of fire were capable of cutting through just about anything.

The first two balls of flame missed, but third caught Federov in his arm, severing it from his body completely, causing him to howl in pain.

A direct hit would have killed him.

There was no applause coming from the stands now, just stunned silence.

Involuntarily, he glanced at Snape, who was staring at him with a mild look of approval on his face.

Daphne too, he noticed, seemed to approve of his methods.

"Hogwarts is disqualified!" The referee's voice reverberated throughout the arena.

As the crowd began to whisper among themselves, Harry's world went dark.

* * *

The rat scampered his way through the open door and across the dull, brightly lit atrium of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

It was a little past two in the morning and Peter Pettigrew's anxiety grew with each passing hour.

The former Marauder paused to wait for the night-nurse to finish her rounds in the "Private Sector" reserved for only their most important clients.

The hospital reminded him of the muggle hospital his mother had taken him to after his father had passed away, forcing him to live his teenage years as a muggle.

Pettigrew waited patiently for several long minutes before the young nurse exited the door, providing him with the perfect opportunity to slip in unseen.

It was strange, the two lives he had lived; the black sheep sidekick to a group of overachievers, the faces of the status quo who had turned spy for the revolutionists.

He and Severus had more in common than the potions master would like to admit.

That thought had always made him smile; as children he couldn't have comprehended fighting alongside the bitter boy, now it seemed like a natural fit.

Slipping unseen into Sirius Black's room, the rat transformed back into a human.

The pudgy man stared at his one-time best friend as he slept in the plain hospital room.

Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew had been inseparable once-upon-a-time. Running around Hogwarts playing pranks on the masses and earning the adoration of most of the school.

They had been gods, impervious to punishment – what would have gotten most people expelled, barely garnered them a detention.

At least Sirius, James, and Remus had earned their adoration; he had remained James and Sirius's sidekick - their assistant. The kid who would be lost without the charity of his improbable group of friends.

He smiled a cruel smile, his buck teeth glistening in the moonlight.

' _Petrificus Totalus!'_ He thought, the spell flowing from his wand and hitting the snoring man.

Sirius's eyes popped open, quickly filling with fear when he realized he couldn't move.

"Good evening, Sirius." He said calmly.

His old friends eyes widened in recognition, before filling with hatred.

Pettigrew smiled. He had never seen a more honest emotion on the man's face.

"How's the work with the mind healer coming? Do you remember yet?" He asked casually, as if the pair of old friends were just catching up.

He smiled again as he pictured Sirius trying to remember.

" _He remembers seeing Bellatrix at the dueling tournament."_

Septima had been worried that Sirius would remember her own involvement at any moment.

The reality of the situation seemed to have an effect on his old friend, and realization flashed through Sirius's eyes, causing his malicious smile to widen.

Peter leaned in close, his nose nearly touching that of his tormentors and stared him directly in the eyes.

"She never loved you, Sirius." He whispered. "I just wanted you to know that before I kill you."

Pulling out a syringe, he smiled at Sirius one last time.

"And after your gone, _Padfoot_ , she's going to deliver Harry to the Dark Lord."

He plunged the syringe into Sirius's IV drip before heading towards the door, pausing to take one last look at his old friend.

The arrogant child who lived to be an arrogant man was _crying,_ spending his last few moments on earth completely defeated.

A satisfied smirk crossed the rats face as he disappeared from the room.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm not a big fan of these but a few things…

I finally got around to reading reviews, PM's, etc., and while I think many of the questions/criticisms worked themselves out, I thought I'd take a moment to answer a few of the more common ones:

I can't believe I have to say this; but just because some school children perceive something as being true, doesn't mean it is.

I'm not open to taking plot suggestions just saw the story closer fits your vision, I get it, you want to see a character do certain things; so did I, that's why I'm writing this.

Speaking of why I'm writing this, the goal has always been to improve my writing, thank you to everyone who says I've improved, I really appreciate it.

I'm not sure how long the story will go on for. I have a definitive set of _**events**_ that need to take place, when those take place, the story will end. I'd guess we're probably 5/8's of the way through the story.

The next chapter will either be a brief interlude, or longer than this chapter, I haven't worked the kinks out yet. Either way, it probably won't be finished for about a month.

BTW this chapter clocks in at 41 pages in Word.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** I own a dog, a car, and a computer, but not Harry Potter

"The dog always dies. Go to the library and pick out a book with an award sticker and a dog on the cover. Trust me, that dog is going down." – Gordan Korman

* * *

A hard prod to the ribs erupted Tonks from her slumber.

"Miss Tonksy!" A high-pitched voice squeaked.

' _What in the hell did I do to deserve this?'_ She thought to herself, opening her eyes slightly to see a long, green finger prepared to prod her again.

"I'm up, I'm up!" She growled.

It took most of Hogwarts less than a week to realize that the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was not a morning person; her regular absence at breakfast had forced the Hogwarts rumor mill into overdrive.

She either had a drinking problem, or a lover, or she was leading a group of Piddlydinks, whatever the hell that was, to overthrow the government.

Sitting up in her bed, the young metamorphmagus frowned at the intrusion, shortening her black hair from its usual shoulder length to that of a more manageable pixie cut, Tonks proceeded to interlock her fingers before stretching her arms above her head, letting a loud groan escape her lips.

She grimaced slightly as she did so, sore from her intense training session the night before.

Training for a professional duel was different than training for battle with Albus; the later contained more moving pieces, a larger area, and required a greater level of patience; while the former was fast, simplistic, and sometimes brutal.

The truth was, while she enjoyed the biweekly training sessions with Dumbledore, she missed the roar of the crowd, and the payday that came with it. While the allure of adding "Hogwarts Professor" to her resume was hard to pass up, it wasn't exactly the highest-paying job.

If she won, the Boxing Day Invitational would satisfy both her need for adulation and money till her contract ended in June.

"What time is it?" She asked the elf next to her as she stood up, waiting for Lizzy to give her instructions.

"It is 5:15 Miss Tonksy, Headmaster Dumbly is needing yours presence."

She smiled softly at the young house elf, dismissing her with the promise that she would be up to Dumbledore's office shortly.

Looking through her wardrobe, she fingered her dragonskin battle robes softly before pulling them out and putting them on, the events of the last few years having left her paranoid.

' _Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.'_ Dumbledore wouldn't be asking for her at this hour if it wasn't an emergency.

Her shoes echoed off the winding stone staircase beneath her feet as she ran her way up towards the office of Albus Dumbledore.

"Come in." A tired voice replied before she could even knock on the door.

For a moment she wondered if it was her heavy steps, or something else that gave her presence away.

' _Probably both.'_ She thought as she made her way across the room and towards the wizened warlock.

' _Tired'_ Tonks thought to herself as she grasped his hand. _'He looks tired.'_

Absent were the eccentric nightgowns and jovial smile, their place taken by a midnight purple - almost black nightgown.

Dark circles had formed under his light-blue eyes, and his skin seemed to droop more than usual; all of which was accompanied by a tired, uncertain grimace.

In that moment, Albus Dumbledore seemed so much smaller than his somewhat tall frame.

He smiled sadly at her attire.

"No need for battle robes, Nymphadora." He responded – a mixture of amusement and sadness in his voice.

A confused look came across her face at his perplexing tone; "what happened, sir?"

He motioned for her to sit, pouring them each a tall glass of brandy.

She did the best to hide her surprise at the gesture, to no avail.

"I'm afraid we'll both need it."

' _At this hour?'_

A tremor went through her as a whirlwind of possibilities played through her mind.

A defeated look came across Dumbledore's face before taking a rather large sip of the golden liquid, closing his eyes for a long moment.

"This morning the night-nurse at St. Mungo's found Sirius dead in his bed."

The proclamation shook her.

Sirius was an enigma of a man.

The daughter of Andromeda Black had met Sirius on several occasions before his stay in Azkaban, though she could barely remember those times.

Her mind was filled with vague glimpses of memories that she could barely comprehend – stealing a much younger Sirius's wand when he had his back turned, Padfoot chasing his own tail, a pair of teens laughing, one of whom had incredibly messy black hair.

And like that he was _gone_ with no explanation.

It took her years to figure out the truth – Sirius Black had betrayed his best friend to Voldemort.

It was a reality she had had to live with throughout her time at Hogwarts as the first Black relative to enter the school since his betrayal.

She would never forget that day her mother had told her she had received a letter from cousin Sirius, proclaiming his innocence and requesting a meeting.

She had begged her mother not to go, and when Andromeda wouldn't concede, she insisted on accompanying her.

And like that he was back in her life again, to her families benefit.

Being restored into the Black lineage had brought her family respect, and an encouraging friend who supported her endlessly.

Sirius had been that older brother who was always there with whatever you needed - whether it was a shoulder to cry on, or a glass of firewhiskey.

And like that he was gone again, this time permanently.

"How?" Her voice trembled as she whispered, in too much shock to speak louder, or even move.

"St. Mungo's still has to run diagnostics, but the suspect he had an allergic reaction to a potions ingredient."

' _How did they mess that up?'_

"I suspect that he was injected with a poison."

A solitary tear ran down her cheek; outside of her parents, Sirius was the closest thing she had had to a family, and now he was gone.

"I mean how?" She asked, wiping another tear from her face. "He was under 24-hour security."

The headmaster gave her a sad, contemplative look. "I am not sure; I suspect Death Eaters found a weakness in the security."

Tonks took a large sip of her brandy before allowing her head to fall into her lap.

She cried quietly for several minutes. Sirius had been a kind and generous man; despite his cursed history, she had never seen him treat others unfairly.

Sirius had also been the last male in his family.

"What do you think will happen to the Black Estate?" She asked, looking for confirmation.

"I imagine that Mr. Potter will inherit the majority of the wealth and responsibilities of the Black family."

The statement hadn't caught her off guard; besides being Sirius's godson, Harry's great aunt had been born a Black, he would have been deemed a worthy heir, regardless of his direct relation to Sirius.

Dumbledore looked at her apologetically. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, especially right now, but I need you to convince Harry to name you as his proxy for both the Black and Potter families."

' _How dare he.'_

Her face narrowed, and her teeth sharpened; "don't you make the death of my cousin an opportunity to consolidate power, _Albus."_ She hissed.

The older wizard met her glare with a stern look.

"Grow up, Nymphadora." His tone caught her off guard. Albus's tone had a range that normally fell between 'jovial' and 'disappointed.'

Condescending was new for him.

"War is coming, it is likely that Harry, and by extension _you_ are the only person with two votes in the Wizengamot, those votes are going to be needed if we are going to win this war."

She frowned in uncertainty; in a practical sense, he _was_ right, but the lack of humanity in his request was disturbing.

"If Sirius thought the family should be entrusted to Harry, and he names me as his proxy, I will vote as he wishes, I will advise him to the best of my ability but will ultimately leave the decisions on which way to vote up to him." The metamorphmagus said with more confidence then she felt, standing up as she did so.

"If you'll excuse me, headmaster; I think I should be the one to tell Harry of his godfathers death."

With that Tonks checked the time and let out a sigh of relief before quickly leaving the headmasters office and returning to her own; leaving her plenty of time to cry before meeting with Harry.

She felt Harry's attitude shift the second he had a proper moment to take a look at her.

His carefree smile had turned to anxiety as he fidgeted in his chair.

How did she tell him that his godfather was dead?

' _Why did I volunteer for this?'_

She chided herself for her cowardice, it had to be her.

She felt her eyes begin to water, and Harry's face turned to concern.

"Is everything alright, Tonks?" He asked, conjuring a box of tissues with a flick of his wand.

They went untouched, for the moment as she composed herself.

"Sirius was murdered this morning at St. Mungo's."

A rainbow of emotions passed over his face, before a mask of indifference overcame him.

His reaction surprised her.

"What happened?"

She stared at him for a long moment, lost within herself.

"Tonks?" Harry interrupted.

"We aren't sure, Dumbledore suspects it was poison. We suspect it was a Death Eater."

He nodded before standing up and turning away from her and towards her small window overlooking the lake.

She could hear a soft sob and saw him wipe away a tear.

Internally she felt a sigh of relief.

He turned around, perfectly composed, several seconds later.

Instead of pushing, she paused.

' _Let him process it.'_ She thought, before pressing forward.

"You were the one of the last ones to see him alive; what did the two of you talk about, last week?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, and he squared his shoulders slightly, as though preparing to duel.

' _What the fuck did I say?'_

"Why?"

His tone was dangerous and full of suspicion.

"I was just curious, Harry." She said calmly. "If you want, I can excuse you from class today."

His shoulders slumped slightly.

He sighed, running his fingers through his messy black hair.

"No, thank you." His tone more cordial than friendly. "Thanks for telling me, Tonks."

* * *

He stepped out of the floo, and into the dimly lit, sparsely decorated, sitting room.

The mood was glum as societies elites milled about.

Voldemort scanned the room carefully, smiling at Lucius as he made his way towards him.

"Bartemius, it's good to see you could make it." The blonde haired man said respectfully, playing the part of an aristocrat perfectly

He smiled thinly back at the blonde man adorned in black robes with bone-white hems.

"Lord Malfoy, I wouldn't dare miss the opportunity to pay my respects to such a fine man."

He was only partially lying; while Sirius Black was an adversary, he was still a wizard, and a skilled one at that, it was a shame that he had to die.

The chameleon wore the mask of a grieving Wizengamot member well; and after a few minutes of small talk, Voldemort casually moved along, taking time to take in the bland-luxury throughout the room, awaiting the start of eulogies.

The death of such a prominent member of society called for more than the typical private, family ceremony generally reserved for the dead.

He eyed the crowd with interest as he glanced around the room.

The entire Wizengamot had shown up for the occasion, and like Lucius they wore the traditional plain black robes with a white hem that signified the death of a member.

At a later date, they would swear Potter in as both the head of House Potter and House Black, an unfortunate event, but one that wouldn't shift the balance - it was unlikely that Potter would vote differently than Black would have, making the sacrifice worth the loss.

After all, secrets won wars.

He spotted Amelia Bones speaking with an anxious Amos Diggory.

The curly haired brunette was gesturing wildly with his hands as the patriarch of the Bones family stared stone-faced back at him.

He had never had much of a need to interact with Diggory in his previous life, but his present predicament dictated he keep a schedule, and part of that schedule was fulfilling the duties of the head of the 'Department of Magical Law Enforcement.'

Part of him found the mundane life amusing.

Hiding under the nose of his former adversaries, like the competent Amelia Bones, had provided its fair share of entertainment.

A much larger part found dealing with anxiety-riddled fools like Diggory aggravating.

The scene caused him to think of Bellatrix.

"We are ready for you." A non-distinct man called out to the assembled crowd, as they slowly made their way into the opulent atrium the ministry reserved for the death of a member of the Sacred 28.

As he made his way through the door, and into the dimly lit, circular room he saw Lucius separating from Octavius.

Catching his eye, he slipped into the man's mind with ease.

" _Tell our friend that Damocles will be on duty that evening."_

He pulled away.

Lucius had come through.

' _So had Octavius.'_

Having a sympathetic auror squadron on duty would make Bellatrix's task simpler.

Crouch took his seat and watched in impatience as Nymphadora Tonks, then Albus Dumbledore spoke about the impossibly tragic life of Sirius Black.

The two speakers each finished their speeches to moderate applause as the audience eagerly awaited Potter's speech.

Whispers broke out around him, and his back straightened as the next speaker took the podium.

"Good afternoon."

Harry Potter's voice started firm, but he detected a slight quiver, and his body language lacked the incredible confidence it displayed during the tournament and in Snape's memories.

' _He's not used to public speaking.'_

He listened half-heartedly as the boy spoke, instead taking a chance to observe how he handled himself.

He had watched as Potter pranced around Hogwarts makeshift arena, dismantling his older opponents with ease before nearly killing his opponent a few weeks prior.

He had watched the memory of Potter forcing Severus on the defensive with an inventive, and brutal combination during one of their training sessions.

And he had watched Vector's memory of the boy chase away several dementors at the beginning of his third year.

Harry Potter was impressive with a wand, and, if Vector was to be believed, he had a brilliant mind.

He watched green eyes dart around the room, eying the exits and examining the crowd with distrust.

' _He's paranoid.'_

And rightfully so.

Potter's speech paused briefly, and for a moment Crouch caught his eye, and easily slipped into his mind.

Onstage, Potter rubbed his forehead absentmindedly, and Voldemort delved carefully into the boy's surface thoughts, not daring to dig deeper.

The child in Potter desperately wanted to blame this on him, and Malfoy, and Lestrange, and any other Death Eater.

But Voldemort could sense his trepidation, deep-down Potter knew he wouldn't be taken seriously.

Voldemort slipped out of his mind before he made a decision, wanting to hear his choice as he made it.

Potter had the chance to publicly blame those he deemed responsible. The press would eat it up, but the proclamation would be met with skepticism.

The public already thought Potter was a danger, calling attention to the _natural_ death of Sirius Black would not end well for him.

He listened as Potter closed his speech, void of emotion, with no mention of a conspiracy, and smiled.

* * *

"What did you say, Goldstein?"

The calm voice echoed off the stone corridor around the corner and through the slightly ajar door of her classroom, stealing her attention away from the stack of essays in front of her.

She let out a sigh, jumping to her feet to go handle the brewing. The menacing nature of the familiar tone causing her to move with a bit of haste.

' _He's not handling this well.'_

Tonks frowned. His godfathers murder had changed him.

"Mr. Potter!" She cried out in alarm as she eyed the scene in front of her.

Stuck against the wall, with a wand to his throat was Anthony Goldstein.

Harry lowered his wand but did nothing to remove his housemate from the wall, allowing him to hang like a fly in a spiders web.

"Mr. Goldstein, what happened?" She asked, removing the Ravenclaw from the wall.

The tall, lanky boy had an arrogant air about him, reminding her of Lucius's kid.

That thought caused her to pause.

" _Minerva had just been made aware of Draco Malfoy, Anthony Goldstein, and Daniel Avery practicing obliviation in an unused classroom, Tonks."_

"Harry and I got in an argument this morning at breakfast about his dueling tactics, he attacked me as I walked away."

"Bullshit!" Harry yelled, his wand in his hand again.

Septima's warning aligned with Dumbledore's thoughts on that particular trio, and she came to a snap decision.

"Mr. Potter." She growled in warning, offering him what she hoped was a stern glare; before shifting her focus to Goldstein.

"As his dueling coach I have no problem with his dueling tactics." She said in a somewhat testy tone.

' _And your story is bullshit.'_

"Though he is a bit of a hothead." She agreed readily.

 _That_ wasn't bullshit.

The defense professor thought about her options and smiled.

"Two weeks detention to be served with myself and Professor Snape, for attacking a student - Mr. Potter."

At the mention of Snape, Goldstein's face widened.

Harry's smile was more of a slight smirk.

"If you'd follow me to my office, Mr. Potter, we can schedule your detentions."

They walked quietly till her door shut behind her.

"Thanks, Tonks -" He began, but she cut him off.

"What the HELL was that, Harry?" She shouted, thankful for the charms silencing her office.

Harry's face contorted into a snarl, an expression of _hatred_ briefly flashed across his face.

And then it was gone as if she'd imagined the whole thing, in its place was a mask of calm anger.

"He was making fun of Sirius, and all but accused me of playing a part in his death."

Tonks felt herself shifting into her natural form, her diamond-shaped face narrowing in contained anger.

"So, you attack him? I thought you were smarter than that, isn't that what you always say? Don't you pride yourself on being _better_ than everybody else?"

He deflated but didn't respond.

She calmed herself.

"We're worried about you." She said softly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You haven't grieved."

She didn't see him shed a tear; not when he was told of Sirius's death, nor when he delivered his eulogy a few days later.

Outside a brief moment, neither she nor Septima had seen Harry mourn Sirius's loss; there had, however, been several slight changes to his personality.

Harry eyed her suspiciously.

' _One of those changes.'_ She thought, remembering how closed off he became when she had pushed him on what Sirius had told him before his death.

He seemed to determine her question as innocent enough before staring down at his shoes briefly.

"Just because you haven't seen me grieve, doesn't mean I haven't." He started softly.

"I have grieved."

His shoulders sagged as he whispered; "Sirius was my godfather. He was the most important person in my life."

Unshed tears sat in his eyes as she considered his words.

Was she being quick to judge? Maybe she should talk to Daphne.

Tonks had never seen him so vulnerable.

"You don't need to grieve alone, Harry. I lost him to, you can always come to me."

Her response sounded weak to her ears, and she frowned.

He scoffed. "It's not the same."

She frowned in anger before controlling herself.

' _You volunteered for this, Nymphadora!'_ She chided herself.

"What do you mean, it's not the same?"

"Sirius is the only family I've ever known." His voice cracked, and a tear made its way down his cheek.

"You can see your family any time, I'll never see what's left of mine again.

The Dursleys treated me like an elf." He spat. "My parents were murdered." His voice trailed off and he stared at a spot behind the wall.

Growing up she had heard stories about the great Harry Potter, the hero who had defeated 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.'

He was the ultimate underdog; a _child_ who possessed something within himself to defeat the most powerful dark lord in recent history.

A _one year old_ accomplished what even the great Albus Dumbledore could not.

He was the embodiment of hope.

Harry Potter was a living fairytale _because_ of death.

It was horribly tragic.

"Sirius was all I had," he started sadly. "Now all I have left of him is some gold, some property, and some titles." He finished bitterly.

' _That may be the understatement of the year.'_ That portfolio contained millions of galleons, and several properties.

"You have me." She said seriously. "And Daphne, and Septima, and Remus." She counted the names off one by one on her fingers.

He smiled, and they sat in silence for several minutes.

"Every night this week at 7 you will meet me for detention, except for Thursday."

Harry gave her a confused look.

"What's Thursday?"

She smiled brightly; "you're meeting with the Headmaster."

* * *

His eyes glanced briefly towards the windows as he rounded the corners and exhaled softly when he was sure he was finally alone.

Harry had spent the last twenty minutes weaving through Hogwarts, trying to lose whomever was tailing him.

He had gone back to the girls loo on the second floor twice since he and Daphne had attempted to access the Chamber of Secrets, and on both occasions, he had gotten the distinct feeling that he was being watched.

'Why' was obvious and presented its own concerns, the real question is _how_ somebody could know that he knew where the Chamber of Secrets was.

Or did they know? Maybe they just spent a lot of time in that part of the castle and were curious as to why _he_ was intruding?

' _Or maybe they're just following me and have know idea what I'm doing down there.'_

Either way, he needed to find out 'who' was following him.

Five minutes, three quick turns and a brief passageway later, he ascended the stairs towards the headmasters office, eager to get the meeting over with.

He had dreaded this meeting for two days.

The first two nights of 'detention' with Tonks had been spent in the Forbidden Forest, where they passed the time tracking and evading each other.

He was shit at finding her, and honestly had no interest in improving, he had no intention of needing to track someone.

Fortunately, the snakes of the forest make for great spies.

After ninety minutes Tonks declared him a "natural" at both tracking and evading, much to his delight, and promised that Friday they would get "back to the basics."

He suspected the reason they had spent time in the forest was because she wanted to give him a few days to process the death of Sirius before letting him try and curse her.

He fought a yawn as he entered the office.

Despite his lack of interest in tracking and evading, the brief time he had explored the forest had spurred interest in him. In his three and a half years at Hogwarts he had been too busy exploring the castle to worry too much about the vast forest that bordered the lake and backed up to the mountains.

Albus Dumbledore peered up from a stack of parchment, briefly meeting his eyes.

"Good evening, Harry."

He found himself stifling another yawn.

No matter how far he pushed himself, Harry had found sleep hard to come by over the last week.

"Good evening, Headmaster."

' _I wonder what we'll talk about first?'_

His godfather, he supposed.

Prior to Hogwarts, his life had been a maelstrom of neglect and despair, then he learnt of magic, and things improved, but things weren't normal until he had met his father's best friend.

His godfather had done more than just provide for, and encourage, him. Sirius had provided him with a safety net, shielding him from the darkness of society, allowing him the opportunity to have some semblance of a childhood.

In a lot of ways that Sirius died in St. Mungo's two weeks ago.

He had barely recognized his godfather in the hospital.

The Sirius he knew made fart jokes and played small pranks on people in Diagon Alley.

He had provided him with a sense of normalcy he had never had.

While his godfather had been honest with him regarding most topics, he had never been forthcoming – that had changed the last time they had met.

Kind, jovial, and compassionate. That was the Sirius Black he would remember.

The headmaster flicked his wand and Harry watched intently as Dumbledore's cluttered desk quickly began to pick itself up before each item marched their way to their proper spot in the office.

He watched with amusement as a snow globe hopped itself off Dumbledore's desk, gently floating to the ground where it hopped three times before placing itself on a shelf several meters off the ground.

"An animation charm with a featherlight enchantment and some sort of spring enchantment." He stated, more to himself than Dumbledore.

"That would work, I suppose." The headmaster postulated, his left hand running through his thick beard.

"Why would I use an animation charm, Harry?"

He frowned in humiliation at being wrong.

If the tragic death of Professor McGonagall had a silver lining, it was having Professor Dumbledore teach the subject he was most passionate about.

Harry had come to treasure sixth year Transfiguration, and he planned on taking full advantage of the opportunity that had presented itself.

The answer was obvious, when he thought about it.

"Only a novice would."

How embarrassing.

In his rush to show off he had given an inefficient answer.

"If you were using a charm, you would have charmed all three; if you can enchant the other two, you can enchant the animation as well.

After that it's a simple activation charm."

Professor Dumbledore smiled.

"Very good, Harry."

He nodded politely at the praise, still upset at himself.

Looking to make up for it, he flicked his wrist, conjuring a comfortable looking leather armchair.

The Transfiguration Master examined the chair thoroughly before nodding his head in approval.

"Your studies are progressing well."

One of Albus Dumbledore's more under appreciated talents was his ability to gather information.

He had often wondered how many of his secrets the headmaster knew.

' _Maybe he's the one who has been following me?'_

He dismissed that thought immediately; Dumbledore didn't need to follow him personally.

' _On his orders then?'_

"They are."

And they _were._ His deep dive into wards, specifically those blocking the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, were starting to pay dividends, and he was using an ever increasing combination of curses and transfiguration pieces in his duels.

More than that, he had begun to design his first ward scheme.

The challenge was intoxicating.

His other studies _had_ been neglected, though.

' _Maybe it's time to change my routine?'_

Dumbledore stood slowly, taking time to examine a picture on his desk.

The headmaster passed him the picture a second later.

It took a second for him to process what he was seeing, he had seen so few pictures of them, and never one like this.

"Minerva took that." He said sadly. "On the day they graduated from Hogwarts."

The sun was low in the sky, casting large shadows across the Black Lake as the squid played off in the distance.

Watching it play was a woman with thick, wavy, red hair and familiar green eyes lying on the broad chest of a hazel-eyed man with messy black hair.

His parents laughed as a big, black dog ran into the frame, interrupting their peace to mark his territory on a rock near the shoreline.

"This was taken a few minutes before their engagement."

Harry stared shocked.

"They were only 17!"

It was a stupid comment. Neither of his parents lived to be 22, and they were married when he was born.

Dumbledore smiled.

"They were in love and there was a war going on." He started. "Your father told me he didn't want to waste time waiting."

He processed that information for a moment as Dumbledore continued.

"You have Lily's work ethic and passion for learning; with James's, and Sirius's, aggression."

Harry frowned slightly at the ambiguous comment.

"Do you disapprove?"

' _To anything I'm doing?'_

He couldn't imagine the man did, he had enabled him, after all.

"Not in the slightest."

He relaxed slightly.

"Your parents, and their friends were remarkable young men and women." Dumbledore started morosely, a sad smile on his face.

"Your father and his friends - Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin -"

Harry noticed how he seemed to purposefully leave out any mention of Pettigrew.

"Used to run around the school utilizing the various passages to play pranks, they called themselves the Marauders."

Sirius used to tell him all about the group whenever he got drunk with Remus.

He smiled fondly at those memories, the pair would go on for hours about Hogwarts, repeating stories as they went.

It was sad, really. Neither had been able to move on from Hogwarts, and with Sirius gone, he suspected Remus never would.

"Their favorite targets used to be Slytherins, and their favorite Slytherin to target used to be Severus Snape."

Snape was always an uncomfortable topic at Grimmauld Place; while Sirius didn't feel great about tormenting Snape, he insisted that the bullying was mutual.

"In their fifth year, your father and Sirius saw a young Lily Evans talking to her childhood friend, Severus Snape, after class. Sirius, in what he insisted was an innocent prank, challenged Severus to a duel, at midnight near the womping willow, on a full moon."

' _Remus.'_

Dumbledore eyed him, no surprise on his face at his knowing Remus's secret.

"I see you have figured it out."

"What happened?"

' _Was Snape a werewolf?'_

"Your father stopped Severus from attending the duel, probably saving his life."

The headmasters face turned serious.

"I heard what happened between you and Mr. Goldstein, Harry."

He had the decency to look at the floor in shame.

But only for a second.

"I was only trying to scare him."

"You can't threaten other students, Harry."

Harry's eyes narrowed in anger.

"But he can spread lies about me with no consequence?"

He wasn't about to let that happen.

"Rise above it, Harry."

' _Do I want to have this conversation?'_

Arguing wouldn't get him back to his study any sooner.

"I'll try."

"Good." Dumbledore said in delight. "I was hoping to discuss a rather insensitive, but urgent issue with you."

Harry nodded his head, motioning for the headmaster to continue.

"I was hoping to restart the Order of the Phoenix, and I wish to use Grimmauld Place as its headquarters."

There was no way Albus Dumbledore was running a paramilitary group out of his home.

"I have a portfolio of properties you can use, but not Grimmauld Place."

He thought for a second.

"I believe I have a small island in the North Sea with a cottage or two on it, you can use that as long as I can join your club."

Dumbledore frowned; "London would be much more convenient, Harry."

"Magic makes it convenient, and you're not in a position to make demands, Albus." Harry replied.

The false kindness in his voice was the only skill he had learned from Petunia Dursley.

"Harry, your parents were very generous to the Order in the past, I'm sure they would want you to help the cause."

His parents had been happy to let the Order of the Phoenix meet at Potter Manor.

In retrospect, it was probably Pettigrew that gave up Potter Manor to Voldemort.

"And because of their kindness my 150 year old family home was burnt to the ground."

"Fine." Dumbledore replied curtly, clearly upset at being refused. "Any property you can sacrifice would be nice."

He smiled; "I'll key you into the wards over holiday."

Harry stood up and his chair disappeared.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a ward scheme to get to."

Despite his obvious annoyance, Harry could have sworn he saw a pleased smile cross the old headmasters face as he left the legendary office.

* * *

"He's a parselmouth?"

"Yes, my lord. My spy has confirmed it."

Outside of eliminating the Potters, and attempting to eliminate their son, he hadn't given much thought to the prophecy.

Though he was beginning to rethink that approach; the boy was beginning to show too much potential to ignore.

He gazed intensely at the diamond-shaped face of Bellatrix Lestrange, and he knew immediately.

"He's found the Chamber."

Bellatrix met his gaze; "he has."

Septima Vector was turning out to be more valuable than he had anticipated.

Part of him was tempted to watch Potter try and breach the vast chamber he had frequented in his youth.

But he couldn't. Whether true or not, the prophecy was making Harry Potter too dangerous to let live.

He stood up with a grace unfitting of his hosts disgusting body and reached out, caressing one of her cheeks with his palm.

She shivered involuntarily at his touch, the simple shutter causing him to smile.

"If your spy does their part, Bellatrix, then nothing he discovers will be important."

' _If the spy didn't do their part, they would die.'_

Her gaze hardened, she understood his message; "of course."

He stopped her as she turned to walk away.

"Do not fail me, Bellatrix."

Her smile oozed confidence.

"Do not worry about me, my lord."

* * *

A streak of mustard yellow flashed at her from her left, causing Tonks to dodge the unfamiliar spell, letting it crash into the wards behind them.

Dueling Bill Weasley was different than dueling Albus, or on the circuit.

Bill wasn't a natural born dueler. He didn't possess elite athleticism, or a particularly large repertoire.

The spells he did use were meant to be used on mummies, creatures, and raiders, and they were more often than not, deadly.

" _I know plenty of spells, Tonks. It's just none of them can be used safely in our practice duels."_

She returned fire, hitting the curse-breaker in the face with a bone-breaker.

Bill's nose, or what was left of it, was spouting blood outwards.

Undeterred, he returned fire with a combination of curses she didn't recognize, mixed with a mess of nastiness.

She grinned as she pirouetted out of the way, causing the wards to hum as the spells crashed against them.

The older man was one tough son of a bitch, that much she was sure of.

She returned fire, but none of her spells found their mark.

Her grin turned into a frown as she felt the wards surrounding the room wane under the constant onslaught.

"TIME!" She yelled.

Bill held his fire, taking a second to repair his shattered nose.

Tonks watched as the shattered bone fragments began to reassemble themselves where his nose used to be while Bill grimaced in pain.

"It hurts like a motherfucker." He grunted out as she continued to watch in fascination.

"But it's the only way I know to reconstruct it perfectly."

"Why'd we stop?" He followed up.

"I felt the wards quake." She frowned. There had never been problems before.

Bill, his nose now back to normal, nodded his head. "Do you mind?"

Differing to his expertise, she observed silently as he worked.

Tonks watched in puzzlement as Bill ran several diagnostic spells in front of her before coming to some sort of conclusion.

"Do you know who laid this newest layer of wards?"

She looked at him in confusion.

"I assume one of the Blacks, maybe Sirius?"

They were utilizing the expanded dueling arena at Grimmauld Place; just because Harry didn't want Albus sneaking around his home didn't mean he had banished her.

"Too new. Whoever put these up did so within the last week."

"How can you tell?"

Bill paused for a second.

"Because this is my ward scheme, it was published in the Quarterly on Monday."

She was mildly surprised at the declaration; Bill seemed like the type to hoard his secrets.

"Why did you publish it?"

He frowned. "It was part of my Masters in Warding."

She was about to butt in, but he interrupted her. "Thesis's are public domain. I had it published discreetly. Someone must have found it and decided to run some experiments."

"What do they do?"

"They're meant for indoor use in magical homes, they utilize the magic in the home to power the wards, drawing energy in from its surroundings, you can weave them into anything. When done properly they will continue to increase in power."

He grinned slightly. "Pretty clever usage, actually… until they gave out."

"I bet it was Harry, then." She stated matter of factly. "Septima said he's brilliant at the subject."

If someone was going to get it wrong, it would have been Harry.

Bill nodded. "I'll have to sit down with him, show him how to do it properly."

She nodded in agreement.

"Alright, Red. What do you got for me?"

He laughed at her nickname for him.

"Not much. Rookwood has been to Little Hangleton - a muggle town - several times in the last month."

' _What was a Death Eater doing in a muggle town if he wasn't massacring the entire village?'_

"What did Gramps have to say?"

He rolled his eyes. "Thanked me, that's it. But he didn't seem surprised."

Like _that_ meant anything.

Dumbledore had a great poker face.

"Your turn."

She debated what to tell him, not wanting to give him too much.

"A few days before her death, McGonagall got word from a student that Daniel Avery was teaching Anthony Goldstein and Draco Malfoy how to obliviate someone."

He furrowed his brow in thought; "who did she tell?"

"I don't know."

* * *

The room got quiet as soon as they stepped through the doorway.

Daphne gave his hand a comforting squeeze as he gazed around the pub suspiciously.

The murder of his godfather had left him weary, it didn't help that Professor Flitwick had been poisoned in this pub.

"I wonder if that bitch planned it this way." Daphne asked with a scowl.

He didn't like the scowl adorning her pretty features. Her smile, her sincerity, her confidence, even her glare – all were attractive.

But not her scowl; Daphne's scowl drew out her displeasure, her annoyance, and her superiority.

Some of her worst features.

"I'm not sure." He responded, guiding his heavily-bundled girlfriend towards a table in the back corner.

Skeeter had made a career out of exposing secrets, and since the death of Sirius, she had set her sights on Harry, and, by extension Daphne and the entire Greengrass family.

Expose's on both him, and the _entire_ Greengrass family had made him furious, and drew out the ire of Alfred, who had warned the pair of this mornings 'Prophet.'

The whispers barely died down as the _"most politically influential couple in centuries"_ took a seat in the corner with their backs to the wall.

Suddenly the Greengrass' held an influential seat in the Wizengamot, again.

Daphne cast a set of powerful privacy charms before facing him.

"How are you doing?" He rolled his eyes.

After giving him several days to grieve, she had taken to asking him "how he was doing" at random intervals.

"Angry, sad, bored, thirsty."

She rolled her eyes back at him, but let the topic go. She never pushed – or at least she knew better than to push in public.

Her eyes wandered over to Lily, who appeared to be having a rather unpleasant conversation with Anthony Goldstein.

He pitied his dark-haired friend, who had been assigned Goldstein as her partner in Charms.

He had found himself partnered with Nott.

Professor Avery must have thought the pairing would be an inconvenience, but, in all honesty, it had given him back his Saturday morning breakfast.

"Have you ever considered what you're going to do now?"

The question caught him off guard, causing him to shift slightly in his chair.

What _was_ he going to do?

Tough times were coming, and whether he liked it or not he would likely play a big role in the coming war.

Voldemort was unlikely to leave the prophecy – real or not – unfulfilled.

But what more _could_ he do? He was already pushing himself to the limit, he literally had no more time to devout.

' _Maybe if I add some variety to my studies?'_

He had been meaning to.

Tom Riddle had had incredibly diverse interests. From the standard topics taught at Hogwarts, to rituals, mind-magic, and even magical creatures, the teenager who became Voldemort was never satisfied with mastering just one topic.

Yet he was focused on wards, charms, battle, and transfiguration.

"The last time I saw him, Sirius told me that the healers discovered he had been obliviated, and that he was working to recover the memory."

People had been murdered for less, and if his godfather had known something that could shift the balance, then the Death Eaters couldn't let him survive.

A concerned look crossed Daphne's normally stoic features.

"I wonder what he knew?"

His mind shifted back to the vial his godfather had given him, untouched since that day.

' _What could be so important that Death Eaters would take such a risk?'_

St. Mungo's, especially the ward dedicated to the members of the Wizengamot, was supposed to be almost as secure as the Ministry of Magic, so what happened?"

The question had drove him spare over the last week; _'how corrupt can the government be?'_

They sat in silence for several minutes, enjoying their butterbeers, and each other's company.

From next to him Daphne chuckled.

"What?" He said in curiosity, the gesture catching him off guard.

Daphne didn't chuckle, she had too much control of her emotions.

But she didn't respond, her chuckle turning into full-blown laughter.

He followed her finger to the source of her entertainment, and immediately understood what had caught her attention.

Outside their silent dome, the entire bar was laughing at a giant, squawking Draco Malfoy, complete with a wide beak, large wings, and light-gold feathers.

Gesturing wildly on top of a table were Fred and George Weasley, who seemed to be pitching some sort of pastry.

Daphne wore a large grin; "I think I just found Astoria's Christmas gift."

He smiled at the slightly devious tone her voice carried.

A moment later the deviousness was gone, replaced by something different.

He saw a flash of uncertainty in her green eyes, causing him to squeeze her hand reflexively in reassurance.

"Would you like to spend Christmas day, leading up to the ball, with my family?"

For most of his life Christmas had been spent like any other day.

Then Sirius had come into his life, and Christmas had held meaning.

She took his lack of immediate response as uncertainty.

"It's okay if you don't. I just thought I'd…"

"I'd love to." He cut her off.

"Great." She said with a bright smile; "I'll let my father know."

He stared at her silently for several seconds.

For all her attributes, positive and negative, he loved that smile the most.

* * *

He was _late._

He frowned. He hated tardiness. Being late wasted time, and time was his most valuable resource.

Harry could only blame himself, nobody had _forced_ him to help Oliver Rivers and Su Li with their Defense Against the Dark Arts preparation.

His sometimes-tumultuous run at Hogwarts had seemed to be at an impasse; and for the first time since they publicly sided with Goldstein over him, Harry had felt completely comfortable in Ravenclaw Tower.

Then Skeeter had gone and fucked it up.

He tapped the marble scepter, revealing a wide, oval room.

Not pausing to take in his surroundings, Harry hastened his pace, crossing the room in a few seconds before opening a second door that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Harry hustled through the doorway and descended the staircase and exiting through a third doorway and hanging a left before pausing at the dead end.

Reaching out with mirth, Harry tickled the pear, causing it to giggle before exposing a previously unseen doorknob.

He paused to catch his breath.

Removing his wand, he tapped his charcoal coat, white oxford, and charcoal trousers, and watched in slight amusement as the clothes straightened themselves.

Despite knowing the arithmancy that held the spells together, he was still in awe of how simple magic could make everyday life.

Long fingers grasped the doorknob at just after 8:05 on the last Saturday morning before the holiday break began, and the castle was abuzz with excitement about the upcoming ball.

"You're late." A pair of voices deadpanned, causing him to groan.

Sitting down Harry calmly grabbed a croissant from the platter in front of him.

"Theo would you please pass the eggs?"

The wiry dark-haired boy scowled but handed him the eggs without any fuss.

He helped himself to a generous portion of eggs, amusement at Nott's annoyance causing him to smile slightly.

"Terry could you please pass me the bacon?" Terry, being a good sport, handed him the bacon without protest.

The trio settled in, nicely after that, making small talk for several minutes before Nott broached business.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get this over with, I have study group at 9:30."

He didn't mind, Theo had never been one of his favorite people and timeboxing their breakfasts together was probably a good idea anyhow.

Harry groaned again. The trio had taken turns sharing information first, it just happened to be his week.

"Sirius was murdered."

"We know that." Nott said impatiently.

While it wasn't common knowledge amongst the public, in some circles, it had been widely assumed that Sirius Black had been murdered.

It wasn't at all that uncommon, members of the Wizengamot had a history of young and mysterious deaths. The intrigue always surrounded around who committed the crime.

Most assumed the 'who,' in this case, was him.

He had to hold back the snarl on his face at Nott's comment.

"I know why."

Harry, Daphne, and Terry had realized early on that the best way to get Nott talking was to feed him information, even if the information was more or less a guess on their part.

He idly wondered if Nott employed the same tactic.

He glanced at Terry.

"After his fight with Dolohov, Healers discovered that Sirius had been obliviated."

This seemed to peak Nott's interest. "Do you know what was hidden?"

Sirius had to have seen or known something worth breaking into St. Mungo's for; though what, was a complete mystery.

It had taken hours of discussion to come to a somewhat logical conclusion.

Terry was the one to answer.

"Not for sure, but we believe he discovered who the spy at Hogwarts was."

The best he, Daphne, and Terry could come up with was that Sirius had somehow discovered who _a_ spy was; the only spy they knew of was the one Sirius had told him was embedded in Hogwarts.

More importantly, Nott was convinced there was a spy at Hogwarts, and if he found the information valuable he would be more forthcoming.

"Lucius Malfoy has asked father to place Damocles Rowles squadron of aurors on Madam Bones' residence for the foreseeable future."

Members of the Wizengamot, as well as high-ranking Ministry officials, were given a small security detail; if security would need to intervene, the detail would call in the assigned squadron, who would take the appropriate action.

' _Why Madam Bones?'_

Nott was slippery, and, from what he could tell, an indifferent participant to their meetings, only attending them dutifully at his father's request.

"Do you know of any planned attacks?"

He smiled.

"No. But Damocles Rowle is the cousin of Thorfinn Rowle, and he is a Death Eater."

He paused. They had agreed on two follow up questions.

' _What would be most valuable to Dumbledore?'_ Or to Tonks, who he assumed passed information along to Dumbledore.

"Do you know if Rowle hand-picked the squadron himself?"

Nott offered him a nod of approval at his question.

"He recruited and trained them all."

* * *

"...so I'm not entirely sure what to do."

Astoria took a minute to ponder her friends dilemma.

She turned to face the smaller, insecure girl with curly raven hair.

It would be a tragedy if she didn't have a date to the ball, but would no date be better than going with a muggleborn?

Among the general populace of the school, nobody would think twice about the silly question; but Slytherin held different standards.

' _So does her family.'_

Chrissy Watkins found herself in the unfortunate position of being considered neither pureblood nor halfblood, nor muggleborn.

In a society based primarily on the caste system, Chrissy was an outlier.

Her friend found herself in the uncomfortable situation of representing the "gap" generation.

It took three generations of magical blood before a family was considered a pureblood; though the designation in and of itself meant nothing, it did open up new social circles.

Purebloods, and to a lesser extent half-bloods, hold the most powerful positions within the country; while muggleborns are often overlooked for some of the more plume jobs, some employers going so far as to openly discriminate against muggleborns.

Those in-between lived anonymous lives - overlooked by a society they merely existed in. Some families were content with that; Chrissy's weren't.

' _How likely is she to get serious with this boy?'_

It was a fair question; grabbing a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks painted a different picture than attending a formal ball. If the boy in question was a passing fancy, was it really worth the backlash?

That was the question Chrissy had to ask herself; was it worth the isolation it would cause? Among her house? Among her family?

"I think you should take you father's advice, at least until you get to know Jacob better. Your father has worked very hard."

And he had, Noel Watkins did phenomenal work as a barrister, but more importantly his success had garnered him respect from some of the Sacred 28.

Feeling her heating charm fade, and not having the energy to recast the spell, Astoria excused herself, telling her friend that she had to finish packing before they left for the holiday.

Chrissy accepted the answer without fuss, and Astoria made her way back to the common room, hoping that Draco's mood had improved.

They both had been hoping to spend the day together. But her father wouldn't allow her to go to Malfoy Manor, and with Harry spending the day with them, her father felt as though the house was crowded enough.

Astoria slid through a crevice near the central part of the castle, utilizing a shortcut she had seen Harry use on several occasions.

The passageway was narrow for several meters before widening towards the end, depositing her in a hallway near the potions classroom.

Noise echoed throughout the sparsely used corridor.

"Again." A stern, familiar voice ordered from a room up ahead.

Trying, but failing to place the voice, Astoria slid closer to the door, daring to peek her head in.

She vaguely recognized the backside of Anthony Goldstein, who was directing his wand slowly while muttering.

Astoria dared to take a better look and gasped aloud.

"What was that?" The woman's voice said.

Anthony stopped what he was doing, and a robotic Lily Moon stopped banging her head on the chalkboard.

At that moment, Lily spun around to face her, staring at Astoria with a glazed over look in her eyes, as though she was unaware of her surroundings - she hardly recognized Daphne's friend.

Heels clicking off stone caused her to turn around, returning her attention to the familiar female voice.

She gasped as she saw the face of Professor Vector pointing a wand at her, an ugly snarl on her pretty face.

" _Obliviate!"_

 **A/N:** I've split this chapter into two because if I wrote out what I originally planned, you wouldn't get an update till Halloween.

Fun Fact, here's how many words are in each HP book:

 _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ : **76,944 words**.

 _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ : **85,141 words**.

 _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ : **107,253 words**.

 _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ : **190,637 words**.

 _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ : **257,045 words**.

 _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ : **168,923 words**.

 _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ : **198,227 words**.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** If I was making money off of Harry Potter, I wouldn't have credit card debt.

 **A/N:** I keep forgetting to mention that I update progress on the next chapter in my profile about once a week.

He woke up with a violent headache on Christmas morning; punishment for the bottle of wine he was allowed to split with Daphne at dinner the night before.

A loud _*thumping*_ sound echoed off the small rooms rather large windows, causing him to groan in displeasure.

Harry felt last night's roast quake violently in his stomach as he slowly stood up to observe the source of the thumping - half ice, half raindrops beating off the windows, blocking what was otherwise a rather beautiful view of the rolling hills that adorned the property.

Feeling his wand still in its holster from the night before, Harry flicked his wrist before taping his head with the long piece of holly.

He sighed in relief as his headache dissipated seconds later, leaving him feeling almost normal.

The gesture caused him to half-laugh, half-cry as he remembered how much shit he used to give Sirius for how he would act while hungover, his not being there for his first hangover felt wrong, somehow.

"Migsy!" He called the elderly Greengrass family elf, who appeared in front of him a second later.

"Can I please get a stomach relief potion?"

Migsy nodded politely - a pure contrast to his counterparts at Hogwarts, who tended to bounce around annoyingly. "Of course, Mister Potter."

Migsy disappeared with a soft * _pop*_ leaving him alone to ponder the elf's words.

" _Mister_ Potter." Not ' _Master'_ Potter as was the case at Hogwarts.

' _Maybe it was a way for elves to differentiate humans?'_

If that was the case, did it mean that the elves at Hogwarts considered the students to be their providers?

' _We do pay tuition.'_ He thought with mirth.

The sudden interest gave him something to write to Madam Glass about.

He hadn't had the opportunity to utilize the etiquette lessons Sirius had insisted he take seriously, and Daphne had been pleasantly surprised at his manners after she _forced_ a formal dinner on him in preparation for Christmas and the Yule Ball, while they were still at Hogwarts.

If he remembered correctly, she had been equally impressed with his etiquette last night.

He smiled roguishly at the thought of last night as he pulled on a pair of navy chinos and a set of dark leather shoes, matching them with an off-white oxford, complete with a pair of cufflinks adorned with the Potter Family Crest.

Heading over to the rooms small wardrobe, he grabbed a smart looking navy-blue robe that he left open in the front.

Looking at himself in the mirror he couldn't help but think he looked like a muggle in a blue suit wearing an overly long pea coat instead of a suit coat.

If he had learned one thing in his brief stay at the Greengrass residence, it was to dress well when possible.

A lesson he could have used a few nights prior.

Dark jeans, and a tee shirt, he had determined on his first night in the cozy home, did not make a great first impression.

"Harry." A soft voice called out from behind him as he left his room.

Turning around he smiled at Victoria Greengrass as she left the master suite a few rooms down.

"Victoria, Merry Christmas."

The short brunette offered him an attractive smile; a smile he had previously recognized as Astoria's more genuine smile.

The thought of Daphne's younger sister caused him to grin involuntarily; the brunette third year had a way of making you feel as though you were the most important thing in her universe.

Her mother, he was quickly learning, had a similar way about her.

Between the personalities, mannerisms, and even looks, it wasn't hard to mistake Astoria and Victoria for sisters.

Both unassuming women carried themselves with a quiet intelligence elevated by an unusual degree of empathy.

"Merry Christmas Harry; that robe looks good on you." She said with a kind look.

Daphne was more similar to Alfred, but the similarity was fleeting, and extended itself mostly to blonde hair and green eyes.

Alfred wasn't nearly as proficient as Daphne was with a wand; although both emitted an aloofness that some found off-putting.

"Thank you again, Victoria."

The robe - a Madam Turney creation - had been a gift from the Greengrass family to him for Christmas.

"You're most welcome, Harry." She said with a smile that belied her teasing.

Of the twelve gifts he had received for Christmas, ten had been robes.

Apparently, Daphne had told _everyone_ that he had an extremely limited wardrobe.

His only respites had been Terry - who may have been the only wizard in Ravenclaw with a more drab wardrobe than Harry; and Albus, who had given him a piece of parchment with a note telling him to ask Remus for the next steps.

He frowned as he thought about his reunion with Remus in a few days - the two had barely had a chance to talk at Sirius's funeral, and he was slightly anxious about their upcoming meeting.

Harry and Victoria chatted amicably as they entered through the kitchen and into the dining room, where Migsy had set up a small buffet.

"How are you feeling this morning, Harry?" Alfred questioned, his booming voice echoing across the elegantly decorated room.

He offered the man a confident smile. "I'm doing well, sir, Merry Christmas."

Where most members of the Wizengamot would hire politically minded individuals to manage their seats on a day to day basis, only showing up for the major votes; Alfred had taken on that job - and the taxpayer-funded salary that came with it - and attacked it with gusto.

The man had been a wealth of knowledge in the weeks since his godfather had been murdered, and he had found himself thankful for the older man's counsel.

"Merry Christmas, Harry." A soft voice said from behind him as Astoria entered the dining room with a radiant smile, offering him a soft hug as she walked by.

"Mum, Dad, Merry Christmas." She continued, greeting them both with their own hugs before helping herself to a few links of sausage and some eggs.

Christmas breakfast at the Greengrass house was a casual affair, and, in a slight twist, he felt slightly overdressed.

Seeming to sense his discomfort, Astoria offered him a sympathetic look. "We tend to dress more casually on Christmas."

He made to respond, but as he did so a hazy memory from the night before pushed its way to the front of his mind.

" _You don't need ta worrrryy 'bout it Harry."_ He remembered a drunk Daphne slurring. " _Jus wear whatever!"_

He smiled slightly, the night had been a dizzying and sloppy affair, and he found himself wondering what Daphne would be wearing when she rolled out of bed.

"Merry Christmas."

' _Speak of the devil.'_

The strong, confident, somewhat groggy voice drew the room's attention to the doorway, where a mess of blonde hair in a loose fitting tee shirt was wiping sleep from her eyes.

"We aren't _that_ casual." Victoria turned to him and said, a touch of disapproval in her voice.

"Daphne please go upstairs and change."

Daphne rolled her eyes before glancing towards Alfred for support.

The blonde-haired man with intelligent green eyes offered his eldest daughter a warm, understanding smile.

"It's Christmas, Vicky."

Harry could see a victorious expression beginning to form on Daphne's face as Victoria's lips pursed and she glared at her husband, but otherwise allowed the subject to drop.

The five spent the next hour chatting amicably over breakfast before a tap on his shoulder pulled him away from his conversation with Astoria.

He looked up to a set of forest green eyes looking into his and glancing towards the door.

Harry watched as Daphne excused herself before he went about wrapping up his conversation with Astoria and excusing himself a few minutes later.

"Did you bring it?"

He was greeted with as he exited the dining room and into the main hallway.

In a good mood, he leaned in, catching her off guard with a kiss.

His lips briefly met hers, and he could feel her smile into him.

"Not even a Merry Christmas?"

She rolled her eyes, impatient with his antics.

"Merry Christmas. Did you bring it or not?"

He rolled his eyes before reaching into his robe and removing the small vial filled with the swirling, silvery liquid Sirius had given him during their last meeting.

Holding the vial in his hands, Harry felt his mood shift from fun and light-hearted to serious as he recalled his godfather's last gift.

It had been nearly a month since he had received the memory, and he was anxious to finally have an opportunity to view it.

The pair made their way quietly down the hallway, pausing at the entrance to the library.

Daphne grabbed his hand before leading him through the doorway.

He shivered as the wards accepted him, and he took a look around.

A large table sat in front of several small bookshelves, but otherwise the room was sparsely decorated.

"There used to be more." Daphne said quietly; "but dad moved all Aunt Ophelia's memories" to Gringotts.

Her tone carried a hint of disapproval as she led him to a plain-looking stone basin.

From a distance the pensieve looked innocuous, but closer examination revealed the dozens of tightly wound runes that allowed memories to playout before their eyes.

Stepping up to the otherwise plain wooden table, Harry took the vial from his robe before removing the stopper and emptying the contents into the pensieve.

The silver liquid swirled around for several seconds before calming.

"Are you ready?" Daphne asked, not a drop of uncertainty in her voice.

 _Was_ he ready? Outside of cataloguing Black properties, and maybe making a trip to the family vault, Sirius had nothing left to give him; this memory - whatever it was - was the last truly unique thing he would receive from his godfather.

The thought nearly made him cry.

He nodded his head resolutely before placing his left hand in the basin.

Harry felt himself get pulled into the memory the second his fingers touched the liquid, and he was soon deposited in a familiar room in a familiar house.

The conversation between the memories inhabitants started almost immediately upon entering the pensieve, the memory refusing to allow him to adjust.

" _If he's just a shade, then why don't we do something about it?"_ His godfather's exasperated voice rang out.

Next to him Harry felt Daphne grasp his hand tightly as he took in his familiar surroundings.

The pair were in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

In front of them a severe looking Sirius Black paced back and forth, while an unusually solemn Albus Dumbledore looked on.

" _Because we don't know where he is, we cannot risk letting him become aware of what we know. We've been through this, Sirius."_

Albus Dumbledore's forceful response left no room for debate.

From next to him Daphne watched the scene impassively; like him she was waiting for _something_ to happen.

" _The horcruxes, Dumbledore. I know."_

From next to him he felt Daphne jump in her seat slightly, but his focus remained on the memory playing out in front of him.

" _You also said that you have destroyed all of them."_

Dumbledore stopped him with a frown. " _That I know of, Sirius. It is likely that I have overlooked one, or more. Tom's intelligence is not to be underestimated."_

" _How many could he have made?"_ Sirius seemed horrified at the thought of more of these, strange things.

The headmaster sighed. " _Theoretically he could have split his soul into infinite pieces."_

Albus Dumbledore's sentence shook him. ' _You can split your soul?'_ The thought both repulsed and interested him. As far as he knew, not much was known about the volatile magic.

All he knew of soul magic was the toll it could sometimes take on its practitioners.

" _What about receptacles, then? Could they be anything?"_ His godfather seemed to have regained a bit of his composure and pushed the conversation forward.

" _Not much is known about horcruxes."_ The elderly man started. " _What we do know is that the soul cannot live in a magically bereft environment."_ Dumbledore continued. " _Both Ravenclaw's Diadem and Slytherin's locket contained an enormous amount of latent magic, allowing a remnant of Tom's soul to survive."_

Sirius looked at the man thoughtfully as he recognized Voldemort's obvious pattern. " _Is it your belief that Voldemort used heirlooms of the founders?"_

Albus looked at a space behind Sirius for a long moment before responding. " _It is my belief that Voldemort likely used items of considerable importance to him; what those items are, I do not know."_

The memory ended soon after that, and the two teens found themselves back in the warm library of the Greengrass house.

He gave Daphne an odd look. "What was that?" He asked, curious about what she had seen during the memory.

Daphne looked slightly hesitant.

' _Is she keeping something else from me?'_ He frowned at the unwelcome thought.

"A while ago I was watching Ophelia's memories and the word 'Horcrux' came up."

The admission immediately grabbed his attention and allayed his fears. "How was it used?" He asked in curiosity.

His tone seemed to catch her off guard, causing Daphne to relax.

' _Am I really that explosive?'_ He found the thought unpleasant.

"Bellatrix Lestrange asked my Aunt about them sometime before she murdered her. My aunt seemed to have some knowledge regarding them, but she didn't go into details."

The information took him aback, and for the first time it occurred to him that digging into Ophelia's memories may hold value for both of them.

The insight wasn't exactly original; Ophelia Greengrass had been a notorious war criminal who trained another notorious war criminal; it would have been more surprising if the deceased woman had had _nothing_ to offer him.

"Daphne, I think I need to see those memories."

Daphne paused, biting her lower-lip in consternation, an internal fire roaring within her; "I'll talk to my father."

He tugged at the charcoal hem on his dark purple, almost black robes nervously as he waited for Daphne.

If he were being honest with himself, outside of a couple "practice" dances, he hadn't spent much time considering the date with his girlfriend.

Where most of his classmates had spent hours agonizing over first dates with a classmate, Harry had dismissed such notions, what did he have to be nervous about? It wasn't as though this was the first time the pair were stepping out together.

Despite that, he was surprisingly, nervous at the prospect of taking Daphne out for such a formal, public evening.

From the corner an amused Alfred watched his internal struggle silently, seemingly content to watch him stew in his own nerves.

Needing something to take his mind off his impending date, Harry removed his wand, waving it silently as he checked over the wards surrounding the house.

The wards, he noted, were powerful, but not insurmountable; a determined adversary could break them within a few hours; while a more cunning wizard could simply be granted access by being escorted through the wards with any family member.

Despite their flaws, the wards provided the family with more than enough security should they need to flee on short notice.

The flames on the fireplace towards the back wall flashed a yellowish-green, leaving a calm-looking Draco Malfoy in its wake.

"Lord Greengrass." The blonde stated, a charming smile undercutting his overly formal tone, "thank you for allowing me into your home."

His classmate bowed to the older man eloquently, who affixed Malfoy with his own expressionless stare.

"Draco Malfoy." Alfred started impassively. "I expect to you act gentlemanly towards my youngest daughter."

Malfoy gave Alfred a sincere look, "I will, Lord Greengrass."

Malfoy turned to him next, offering him the same charming smile.

"Lord Potter. My condolences at your recent loss."

He kept his temper in check - while discussing Sirius's death with Daphne it had occurred to both of them that Lucius Malfoy - one of St. Mungo's most philanthropic contributors- could have means, opportunity, and motive to have Sirius Black killed.

The same could probably be said of a multitude of people, but the theory about what may have happened to his godfather wouldn't leave him alone, and the sight of Draco Malfoy had re-ignited his paranoia.

Harry's interactions with Draco Malfoy had been limited over the years - seemingly contained to suspicious glances and childish taunts; until the boy had shown an interest in Astoria, he had never even crossed his mind.

The boy's family had existed for hundreds of years, building their wealth through trade; first in France, before migrating across the channel in the later part of the 19th century.

The strong bloodline, and nearly unmatched familial wealth could have turned Draco Malfoy into a sniveling, pampered idiot - and it nearly had.

But despite the griping's of Ron Weasley, and some of the more boisterous Gryffindors; Draco Malfoy was not some idiot to be underestimated - spoiled, yes, but not an idiot.

The son of Lucius Malfoy was a snake, and he fully expected him to be the perfect gentleman in public, belying suspicion, right up until he wasn't.

"Thank you, Heir Malfoy."

He saw a flash of annoyance run through Malfoy's eyes - no doubt angry at the reminder of his current station - behind those eyes was a healthy amount of ambition, and he couldn't imagine the younger Malfoy liked being reminded that his father was the _important_ Malfoy.

The trio sat quietly for several minutes longer until he heard two distinct pairs of heels echoing off the floor, causing him to look towards the doorway.

Astoria, in her emerald and silver dress, was the first to arrive, and matched Draco's own black, emerald, and silver robes nicely.

Astoria used her off hand to wipe a loose strand of curled, brown hair out of her eye, the silver bracelet on her wrist sparkling in the light.

"Don't you gentlemen look dashing!" She said with a flirty smile, before greeting her date with a kiss on the cheek, causing the boy to redden slightly.

To his credit, Draco seemed genuinely taken by the appearance of his date.

' _Astoria thinks he is serious about her.'_ He remembered Daphne telling him.

As Astoria moved in to greet Malfoy, Daphne made her appearance known, and Harry felt his breath catch in his throat.

She looked beautiful in Madam Turney's dark purple and charcoal strapless dress, her straw blonde hair styled in an ornate bun.

As she walked slowly towards him in her narrow heels, he couldn't help but notice the diamond encrusted necklace she wore, drawing his eyes towards her chest.

His staring did not go unnoticed as Daphne closed the gap between them, greeting him with a soft kiss and a coy smile.

"Shall we?"

* * *

Arms still linked, Harry and Daphne exited the floo into Hogwarts rarely used Receiving Room.

The room was grand but understated. Decorated in dark woods and rich colors; the portraits, the gold and silver decorations that seemed to dominate Hogwarts, they were absent here, leaving the room uncommonly bare.

"They've _really_ pushed the boundaries of magic with this room." Daphne muttered under her breath, causing Harry to nod in agreement.

Around them several hundred couples were chatting amicably without somehow feeling claustrophobic.

"Let's make the most of this." Daphne's voice carried a great amount of resignation as he let her lead him around the room.

As a pureblood, and a member of the 'Sacred 28,' Daphne had grown up with formal occasions such as the Yule Ball, and, according to her, only fools didn't take advantage of the opportunity to network.

"This way." Daphne said softly, leading him towards a gangly blonde in a pretty, light green dress accompanied by a slightly pudgy boy with black hair and a fat face.

"Longbottom?" He nearly whined. The Gryffindor was a bumbling idiot on the best of days.

"They're both Herbology prodigies and both their families have seats on the Wizengamot." She whispered.

And, like him, Longbottom would be taking his seat this summer - although it was expected that Augusta Longbottom would continue to vote on his behalf for the foreseeable future.

Also like him, Neville Longbottom had lost his parents to the brutality of Voldemort, all due to a few vague words spoken by a lunatic under duress.

It was incredible, he thought, the devastation those words had caused.

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."_

The words had dragged his parents - and Neville's parents - deeper into a war in which they were, at 19, already deeply entrenched in.

' _It cost them all, everything.'_

From time to time he wondered who had met a worse fate: Frank and Alice Longbottom, or his parents.

' _At least Neville can visit his parents.'_

The line of thought made him feel guilty, misery wasn't a competition.

Information like _why_ the Potter's and Longbottom's were attacked, he had come to realize, was the most powerful weapon in war. The information didn't need to be accurate to be believed by everyone, all it needed was one person to find it valuable.

' _At least Neville won't have a psychopath looming over him for the rest of his life.'_

And he likely wouldn't. Neville, if he so chose, could spend the rest of his life growing stupid plants and shoving chocolate frogs down his gullet, maybe he and Hannah could settle down and make a whole future around their fat, ugly children and the gardens they'd maintain.

All because Tom Riddle had chosen _him_ to be the subject of a false prophet.

The irony, he thought, of Voldemort choosing the half-blood as his equal.

' _Would the Death Eaters abandon Voldemort if they knew of his hypocrisy?'_

And with that thought, he _envied_ the daft Gryffindor; the hapless boy would never have to spend his evenings engrossing himself in violence, wondering if he's the next target of a radical terrorist group.

Daphne was ignorant of his thoughts as she dragged him across the room, dressing herself in a brilliant smile that highlighted her unblemished face and softened her normally severe eyes.

"Hannah! Neville!" She cried out, more pleasantly than he had heard her speak in ages.

They spent the next twenty minutes bouncing around the room talking to anyone Daphne deemed appropriate.

The two had spent several minutes exchanging pleasantries with Susan Bones before moving on to Su Li, Michael Corner, and Cormac Mclaggen; it was when they were talking to Padma Patil and Ernie McMillan that they were interrupted by the confident voice of Septima Vector addressing the room.

"If all the students could make their way inside, the ball will begin shortly."

The Deputy Headmistress was dressed in all black robes, signifying her continued state of mourning.

He and Septima had had an awkward relationship since Sirius's death.

While classes were fine, he had found the handful of times they had been alone together to be awkward; neither, it seemed, had much to say to the other.

Their overly friendly relationship had grown out of necessity rather than desire - at least it had seemed that way at first. But Harry would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he had missed the frighteningly smart brunette beauty. Under her tutorship he had begun finding creative uses for all sorts of ward sets, as well as beginning to develop his own; his curiosity had allowed him to get close to his godfathers former fiancée, and he would be lying if he said he hadn't missed her insight _and_ her companionship over such a difficult couple of weeks.

' _I wonder how she's handling things.'_

In all his anger and self-pity, he hadn't even considered what Sirius's _fiancée_ was going through after such an untimely death.

From what he could see, Septima was barely keeping it together.

As the Deputy Headmistress finished her announcements, Harry and Daphne parted from Ernie and Padma, making their way through the thick double-doors of the Great Hall before quickly finding their seats with the Hogwarts dueling team.

The Receiving Room, he had noticed, hadn't been the only room at Hogwarts that had been pushed to its limits by magic.

Around the room hundreds of tables supported delegations from the tournaments three participating nations as well as a smattering of other officials from across the continent.

"I didn't realize how many people would be here." He commented to Daphne, whose eyes never left the room sprawled out in front of her.

"It's the social event of the year, Harry." She said in condescension, causing him to roll his eyes.

Their seats with the Hogwarts Dueling Team provided them with an uninhibited view of not only the dance floor, but the currently empty high table as well.

"Why do I get the feeling that everyone is staring at me?" He whispered towards Daphne, the expression on his face remaining neutral.

He could see his girlfriend's eyes dart subtly around the room quickly.

"Probably because they are."

Even if he hadn't been "The Boy-Who-Lived," regular old Harry Potter had done enough in his life to garner at least a little bit of attention; between the dueling tournament and various media reports in the Daily Prophet, he was a budding dark lord with near limitless resources, waiting to strike.

Almost instinctively Daphne started pointing out people with whom he should be familiar with.

"To the back and to the left." Daphne started, guiding his eyes towards a tall, red-headed woman in loose fitting light-blue robes. "That's Miranda Wallebee, she was just named as the new Ambassador to Australia last week."

She took his neutral grunt as encouragement, pointing out several more people as they gathered into the hall.

"That's Rory Whittingham." She said, directing his gaze to a short, stocky man with thin black hair who was gesticulating wildly do an unidentified woman. "He's in charge of transportation and the international floo network."

"Who's that behind him?" He asked curiously, gesturing towards the tall, handsome man who appeared to have several bodyguards, and was glancing around the room suspiciously, seemingly ignoring the man with a beard who was speaking with him.

Daphne furrowed her brow before her face undertook an annoyed look.

"Francis DuPont, French Minister of Magic."

He was mildly surprised to see the leader of magical France in a school, it seemed so… quotidian.

Standing behind him was an alluring Gabrielle Delacour, her honey blonde hair blending nicely with her form-fitting red dress.

She looked comfortable at the Beauxbatons Quidditch team table, chatting animatedly with her date as they waited for the evening to officially begin.

She caught his eye briefly, offering him a soft smile as she did so.

Their friendship had become rather complex since she had asked him to the Yule Ball, and he wasn't exactly sure where they stood.

"... And over there is Alexander Demitrov, the current Minister of Magic for Bulgaria."

Daphne's gaze directed him towards a different section of the room towards a tall, lanky man with hair cut close to his skull who was also surrounded by several bodyguards.

The man in black robes and sallow skin was standing alone at his table, eying his surroundings suspiciously.

"So that's who Lestrange has as her puppet?"

Daphne shrugged. "I haven't been following Bulgaria since the coup." She paused to consider her next words. "But if she does have influence over him, then we should avoid him at all costs."

He let things fall into a comfortable silence as the sound of conversation echoed throughout the room.

Sometime during his observations, the high-table had filled up with the champions, their dates, and the headmasters of the three schools; everyone, it seemed, appeared to be waiting on Dumbledore to begin his speech.

"Good evening everyone, and welcome to Hogwarts!"

Albus Dumbledore's speech was long-winded, and by the time he finished, most of the hall had politely finished their dinner, and were anxious for the champions and their dates to open the ball with a dance.

"How was your lamb?" He asked Daphne as Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang twirled elegantly in front of them.

"A little too well-done for my liking." She answered honestly as they waited for the first dance to finish. "How was the tenderloin?"

"Perfect." He answered, his gaze remaining on her as the champions finished their dance to the applause of the crowd.

Turning to Daphne, he offered her his hand and his most dazzling smile; "Daphne Greengrass, may I have this dance?"

The pair spent the next hour dipping and twirling around the hall, laughing and enjoying each other's company before they each took turns dancing with others.

"You're not a bad dancer." Daphne said some time later between a sip of punch. "You must have had a great teacher."

He smiled, pretending to contemplate her words.

"Lily was very thorough, yes."

She gave his arm a light swat, offering him a playful smile; "maybe you should dance with her for the rest of the night?"

"Maybe." He said, his voice trailing off as he noticed Snape skulking towards the doorway.

"What do you think Snape is doing?" He asked, changing the subject.

Daphne rolled her eyes; "who cares."

They stood quietly holding hands for several more minutes as their classmates mingled with ministry officials from all over Europe.

Out on the dance floor Terry and Marcie were dancing erratically to the frantic beat of the 'Weird Sisters' music, off behind them the Weasley Twins were encouraging them in their effort while recruiting others to join the frenzy.

Over on the far side of the room he noticed Ron Weasley talking glumly with Dean Thomas, and he felt his anger boil slightly, before subsiding into a contemplative depression.

Over the years he had come to accept that it was Ron and Dean more than anyone that bore responsibility for Hermione's death.

Their merciless mocking and vicious taunts had led to her fleeing the Charms classroom that fateful October day during first year.

' _If she was alive, would I be here with her?'_ He often wondered how things would have played out had they not been interrupted by the troll.

' _Would I still be with Daphne? Or would we just be classmates?'_

He liked to think that if Hermione had been around the three of them would be the best of friends, three brilliant minds, tackling the world's problems together.

But comparing Daphne and Hermione was like comparing apples to oranges.

While they both accepted him and pushed him to be his best; the girls were fundamentally different people. Deep down he knew the uncomfortable truth; if it hadn't been for Hermione's death he wouldn't be who he was today.

A different question began to manifest itself in his mind; ' _could I have gotten this far without Daphne?'_

He felt the grip on his hand tighten, shaking him from his wanderings and bringing his mind back to the ball.

"If Blaise broke her heart, tonight of all nights, I'm going to kill him." Daphne growled.

Far off on the other side of the Hall Lily sat alone at a table with bloodshot eyes, and tear marks on her cheeks, crying alone.

Daphne made to go comfort her friend, but he stopped her; "let me talk to her." He said with a dashing smile.

Daphne contemplated his words, before giving him a resigned shake of her head - Lily seemed to be more open around him anyhow.

"Let me know if I need to kill Blaise."

' _Henri is woefully boring.'_ She thought to herself, a smile plastered on her face as she chatted aimlessly with the older boy.

' _...and he talks too loud.'_ She added as she furrowed her brow.

Gabrielle sighed as she gave up trying to eavesdrop on the Minister, and instead contented herself with half-participating in the conversation, and half observing the room.

"We haven't decided yet." She chimed in absentmindedly as Henri asked her about her family's summer plans.

Sensing she hadn't satisfactorily answered his question she added; "we normally do a couple of trips around the continent though."

Memories of the Almalfi Coast and afternoons splashing in the Mediterranean with Fleur flooded her mind as her eyes glided over the crowd, resting briefly on Harry Potter.

His eyes caught hers briefly, and she offered him a warm smile.

He looked good wearing dark purple robes and an easy smile that made his face light up, Gabrielle controlled herself as she felt the vestiges of a crush creep up on her.

' _Lot of good that will do you.'_

She didn't know where things stood between her and the British hero; they'd barely had a conversation since he had turned her down in November.

' _Was it just an attraction?'_ Is that all she felt for Harry? Or was there something more?

When she was younger Fleur had abruptly stopped owling Marco, an Italian boy Fleur had met on the coast the summer before her third year at Beauxbatons.

At the time Fleur had explained to her that they both wanted different things, and that they had sort of just drifted apart.

' _Is that what has become of me and Harry?'_

She watched her sister, beautifully waltz around the room with some British boy who kept ogling her.

' _Fleur deserves better.'_ She thought in disgust.

As the dancing couple turned towards her, Gabrielle noticed the displeased look on her sisters face as Roger Davies allowed his hands to roam a little too close to her waist.

He caught her sister glare at the boy before her look softened and landed on the pretty brunette who she knew had a close relationship with Harry.

Fleur eyed the older woman hungrily, causing Gabrielle to chuckle softly, Fleur was used to getting what she wants, it must pain her to be with that British brut.

Her small laugh caught the attention of her date, who took the opportunity to guide her to the dance floor.

They danced peacefully for a couple songs, during which, she noted, Henri's hands stayed firmly on the small of her back.

As the current song ended, she excused herself, taking the pause as an opportunity to go freshen up, allowing her a few minutes alone in an otherwise hectic evening.

A flash of dark hair darting passed her stole her attention, drawing her to a small table in the back corner.

She recognized the girl who had passed in front of her vision as one of Harry's friends.

Sensing her gaze, the girl looked up, catching her eyes with a vacant look.

The dark-haired girl's empty face caused her to shiver, but she offered the girl a small smile before heading off towards the lavatory, all the same.

The halls of Hogwarts were barren, except for the odd couple who were looking for a little more privacy, and she was able to get in and out of the bathroom in a matter of minutes.

Reaching a fork in the castle as she headed back towards the hall, Gabrielle paused as a familiar voice caught her attention.

"Lily, what's wrong?" A voice she recognized as Harry's rang out, his soft tone reaching her ears with ease.

Peaking a look around the corner, Gabrielle nearly jumped in surprise at his friends face; her empty expression from a few minutes prior replaced by a mess of tears and loose hair as she cried inconsolably.

Catching her breath, Lily's response was inaudible.

The slight rattling of a suit of armor momentarily stole her attention. Her lapse in concentration caused her to scold herself before she turned her attention back to the conversation in front of her.

The sight made her gasp loudly in astonishment; in the two seconds it had taken her to look over her shoulder, Harry Potter had disappeared.

She watched discreetly as her boyfriend led her crying friend out of the Great Hall, and to merlin-knows-where.

Despite her brain telling her otherwise, she felt slightly insecure about Harry being alone with her friend in such an intimate setting.

A setting where her friend was crying.

At a Ball.

She had been curious when Lily had told her she had shared a boat with the famous Harry Potter on their first-year journey to the castle.

Outside of a children's story, nobody had interacted with Harry Potter till that moment, and prior to first year she - like the majority of their year - had been curious to see if the boy matched the legend.

Daphne, like the rest of the first year Slytherins, had laughed as Lily told the tale of an awkward _muggle raised_ Harry Potter in ill-fitting clothing.

And that would have been that, if he hadn't been so damn prodigious with a wand.

Rumors swirled, and people talked.

' _Potter is an arrogant twat.'_

' _Potter thinks he's better than everyone.'_

' _Potter is a prodigy.'_

It was the last compliment, the one she and Lily had overheard the late Professor McGonagall tell an equally exuberant Professor Flitwick that had seemed to spark a renewed curiosity within her friend.

Lily didn't come from much. Her parents weren't exceptional at any single thing and her family didn't have even as much as her own.

All Lily had was her blood.

But as a first-generation pureblood her name lacked the prestige necessary to garner the social benefits of being a pureblood.

It was Lily's inferiority complex that drove her to seek out such a powerful friend; it was hormones that drove her to develop a crush.

One she thought had subsided.

With this on her mind, Daphne followed the pair out of the Great Hall, and into the rest of the school

For what felt like the hundredth time she thanked merlin she had remembered to silence her shoes as she crept away from the _passionate_ couple she had come across in her pursuit of Harry and Lily.

' _Get a room!'_ Daphne thought as she paused to orientate herself.

Closing her eyes for a long moment, she heard a male's voice not too far off in the distance, followed by what she thought was crying.

As the voices got louder her jog came to a slow walk before she perched herself behind a suit of armor.

"...it's Blaise, Harry; it's like he didn't even care!" Lily wailed.

Disillusioning herself, Daphne stuck her head out from behind the armor to get a better look.

She nearly snorted as she got a look of Harry's face; ' _he has no idea what to do.'_ She thought in amusement.

Her amusement was killed a half-second later as she got a look of her friend.

Fresh tear tracks ran down her sunken face, her body language making her look vulnerable, while her blood-shot eyes looked lifeless – as though she was a marionette in someone's game.

Lily's bracelet slipped off of her wrist, falling to the ground with a clatter.

Noticing that his friend had dropped her jewelry, her boyfriend bent over, wrapping his fist around the shiny, gold bracelet.

Only to disappear in an instant.

A loud gasp shook her from her own shock.

Standing about forty meters beyond where Harry had been was a familiar girl in a tight, confident red dress and braided honey-blonde hair.

Lily immediately turned on the French witch; "Avada Kedavra!" She shouted.

Delacour was so shocked she wasn't even attempting to move.

' _What the actual fuck?'_ Daphne thought as she desperately summoned the witch over to her, saving her life as she narrowly avoided Lily's killing curse.

Her disillusionment charm must have failed, because when Lily looked at her, there was a momentary look of confusion on her face as if she was fighting an internal battle.

' _What the hell is going on?'_ She thought frantically.

Seeming to have made up her mind, Lily hurled another killing curse, this time towards her.

Daphne hastily conjured a brick wall, which was immediately decimated by the force of the curse.

' _Stupefy, expelliarmus, stupefy!'_ She thought in rapid succession, desperate not to hurt her friend.

' _What the hell is going on?'_ She repeated to herself.

When they were twelve years old Lily watched her brother, Damian kill a rabbit while the three of them had been playing in the family garden; Lily was so upset at what her brother had done that she didn't speak to him for a week.

The Lily she knew wouldn't be acting this way.

"You can't escape me Greengrass!"

Her friend's voice sounded melodic, as if she was a vessel for someone else's words.

"Crucio!" Lily cackled as the blood-red spell jetted from her wand, hitting Daphne square in the chest.

Daphne screamed as she felt as though her flesh was being torn from her bones.

' _You've prepared for this.'_ She thought, thinking back to several brutal sessions where she forced Harry to use the unforgivable on her.

" _There is no blocking the Cruciatus Curse with magic."_ Professor Tonks had told them during their lesson on the Unforgivables at the beginning of the year.

" _If you find yourself on the receiving end of the spell, your only hope is to maintain focus, many witches and wizards turn to a technique called occlumency…"_

She called upon her occlumency shields and focused as she felt the shields jump into place, allowing her surroundings to come back into vision.

She saw a jet of blue light fly out from behind her, and the spell ended, right as she was crawling towards her wand.

' _Thanks for the distraction, Delacour!'_

"B-bombarda!" Daphne yelled out, her voice uneven from the pain.

Lily dodged her weak attempt with a sick smile, raising her wand to return fire.

Before a spell could leave her lips, and hazy as if in a dream, Daphne heard footsteps approaching from behind her, and instantly saw Lily's face contort into a snarl before settling into a menacing, determined smile.

Fingering her wand with her long fingers, Lily raised her wand slowly, pointing it at her temple.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_ Lily said before dropping lifelessly to the floor.

* * *

He barely had time to register the distinct tug at his navel before his head erupted in a tidal wave of pain.

He heard a soft humming -as though another portion of his soul was awakening, desperate to make itself known- in his ears as he emptied the contents of his dinner onto the blurry rooms hard floor.

" _Interesting."_ He heard a seemingly long-off voice annunciate.

" _Something seems to be causing the boy an immense amount of pain."_ The same curious voice with a French accent continued.

Harry felt the pressure building in his forehead, scratching at the front of his skull as though desperate to escape through his scar.

" _What isss wrong with him masssster?"_ A hiss from his left chimed in.

He took a deep breath, trying to find his bearings. For the first time since he started lessons with Snape, Harry felt grateful for the man's sadism as he worked through the pain, concentrating on his occlumency shields.

He felt the throbbing subside slightly in his head as his vision came back into focus.

He was in a well-lit, sparsely decorated, windowless room, surrounded by several people.

"I don't know, my friend." A somewhat familiar voice responded.

Harry looked towards the source of the voice.

' _What the hell is Crouch doing here?'_ The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was eying him with amusement.

His emerald eyes slowly made their way across the room, glancing over Crouch; a small, fat man with mousy features, and an unfamiliar man with wild, dark hair before briefly resting on… Professor Snape?

"Marcel, is he supposed to be glowing?" Crouch asked an ancient wizard with long, graying hair.

" _Massster, can I eat?"_ Harry glanced towards the hissing voice to his left and was surprised to see an extremely large snake staring at him hungrily with beady eyes.

' _There's another parselmouth in this room.'_ He realized.

"It is interesting, my lord." The French wizard replied, a tone of giddiness in his voice. "I can run some tests, if you'd like."

"Yes." Crouch replied with confidence.

' _Voldemort.'_ He thought, a feeling of panic overwhelming him. A few decades ago, a young Tom Riddle had become the most famous parselmouth since Salazar Slytherin.

Which meant the snake was Nagini.

After his fourth year Riddle had paid a visit to the old Gaunt family home, only to come across a six foot long Boa Constrictor who had told him to call her Nagini.

It had taken years for Riddle to learn the truth - the snake, a former circus performer - was a Maledictus - a curse she had carried on from her mother, whose husband had insulted the wrong man - that had run away from home in her youth, only to return in the final years of her life.

Voldemort had become obsessed with that snake.

' _What the hell?'_ He thought with a panic, trying to piece together how he had found himself in this foreign room.

' _I was talking to Lily…'_

And then it all clicked into place; the odd questions over the last few months, the vacant stares, the internal struggle that seemed to be ever-present in her eyes, and finally, the silver bracelet - now laying haphazardly off to the side- transporting him here.

' _How did I miss the signs?'_ It all seemed so obvious now, after-the-fact.

Had he really been so self-absorbed that he hadn't noticed how much trouble his friend was in?

A feeling of shame pushed its way through his fear and panic.

" _Soon, Nagini."_ Voldemort replied to the snake who was still eying him hungrily.

Harry tried to move but found himself frozen.

' _Petrificus Totalus.'_

He was petrified, but still conscious - cognizant of the perilous situation he suddenly found himself in.

"There's no escaping, Harry." Crouch exclaimed with a twisted smile hanging from his lips. "You will die in this room."

The statement brought with it a new wave of panic - this wasn't a dueling platform at the Triwizard Tournament, or even a practice battle with Snape, Moody, or Tonks; he would die in this room, and all his efforts would be in vain.

A cackle of laughter drew his attention to a previously unseen, pretty black-haired woman wearing jet-black robes who had been standing off in the corner.

' _Tonks?'_ He thought with a sense of alarm. ' _What's she doing here?'_

Mentally he shook his head. The woman in front of him was too old to be Tonks.

' _Bellatrix Lestrange.'_ He thought, his blood running cold at the thought of being alone in a room with her and Voldemort.

' _What the hell is going on?'_

Daphne's obsession eyed him predatorily, a cruel smirk on her dangerous face.

"Severus, Bellatrix." Crouch's firm voice commanded.

His potions professor and the psychotic witch stepped forward, nodding their heads slightly in respect.

"Do not fail me."

Both Death Eaters gave Voldemort a second nod before disappearing with a crack.

' _He hasn't warded against apparition.'_

He thought victoriously, a sliver of hope began to form in his head as Harry silently thanked his godfather for teaching him how to apparate at an irresponsibly young age.

' _If I could only move.'_

"The glowing, my Lord."

Crouch turned back towards the excited French wizard.

"It appears you made the boy an accidental horcrux."

Voldemort turned his attention back towards him, eying him curiously.

"Interesting. Will he survive the ritual?"

His voice carried a genuine curiosity, and for a moment Harry glimpsed Tom Riddle, the prodigious half-blood orphan.

"I do not know, my Lord." The elder wizard stated; he too appeared genuinely curious at his current predicament.

Voldemort deliberated calmly for a long moment.

"Marcel, Augustus." The French wizard and the lanky wizard with mangy dark hair gave Voldemort their full attention.

' _Augustus Rookwood.'_ He thought, his mind returning to his last conversation with Sirius.

"Let's begin."

The French wizard gave Voldemort a slight nod before removing a silver dagger.

The man sauntered over to him, an eager smile on his wrinkled face.

A flick of his wand conjured a plain, wooden table before setting Harry on it lightly.

"You know, boy. You may be the most interesting specimen I've had."

He got the feeling the other wizard felt he should be honored.

"Do not forget, my lord. His corpse is mine."

Harry desperately tried to break free of the curse to no avail as the necromancer removed a dagger with a dragon hide handle.

"Mithril, boy." He continued conversationally, the blinding bright light reflecting off the fine blade.

"Only the best for you."

The knife sliced his flesh cleanly as the French wizard carved unfamiliar patterns into his torso.

He felt no pain as the blood trickled down his skin.

"The objects, please."

He saw Rookwood hand the French wizard - Marcel, several objects, before his scar ruptured in pain once more.

" _Release me."_

A voice called from the back of his mind, as an unfamiliar force pounded against the back of his forehead like a battering ram trying to break through his skull.

" _Release me."_

The voice called again, before pounding against his head again.

This time he felt his skull break and the pain suddenly stopped, the world coming clearly into view.

"Interesting." A voice with a light French accent called out, drawing his attention back to his reality.

He saw Marcel jot something down in a small journal before returning his attention towards Harry.

In front of him he saw a dark entity floating in front of him.

' _A piece of Voldemort's soul."_ He studied the horrific shade closely for a long moment.

"Magnificent, isn't it Harry?" Voldemort's soft voice commanded his attention.

And suddenly he found himself able to speak, the petrification charm having been replaced by ropes.

"Yes." He answered honestly, fully aware that he was exchanging words with a maniac.

"Wormtail."

Voldemort's words made his blood boil as the pudgy man with ratty hair made himself known.

"Harry Potter meet Peter Pettigrew, the man who killed Sirius Black."

' _Him.'_ He thought, red with rage.

' _The man who betrayed my parents also killed my godfather.'_

He felt his magic surge, breaking free of the ropes momentarily, only for them to be reapplied.

Sirius deserved better.

He eyed the rat bastard murderously.

"Before you kill me, allow me to kill him." He said.

He noticed the other people in the room eye him in shock.

" _Masster he speaksss."_

Voldemort turned to the snake.

" _He does. Leave us, Nagini."_

Voldemort eyed him carefully, as if considering his request.

"My snakes had told me you were more like me than Dumbledore." He began, an amused smile at his lips. "And while I'm tempted to grant your request, I need Wormtail alive."

At his proclamation, the traitor took the French wizards dagger hesitantly before he began to carve deeply into his left arm with the serrated blade.

Blood splattered throughout the room as the bastard cried out in pain as he slowly cut through muscle and bone, sloppily removing his own arm.

Undistracted by the gory display Rookwood and the French wizard chant loudly as the cup, the ring, and the shade hovering in front of him began to glow a light blue.

The chanting picked up as two separate entities began to emerge from the horcruxes in front of him.

As they emerged, the shade in front of him began to race around the room frantically as a fourth entity began to emerge from the body of Bartemius Crouch.

The shade from his scar was joined in its erratic journey around the room by the three other fragments, as though they were chasing each other.

He felt the magic saturating the air begin to churn as the lights petered out in the room.

As the chanting stopped, the four shades began to coalesce, swirling together in a hauntingly beautiful display.

As Marcel removed his wand, Augustus Rookwood began combining ingredients - including the blood drawn from Harry and the arm that was offered by Pettigrew - into a beautiful golden cauldron before adding a final vial of blood.

As the fractured souls in front of him continued to come together off to the right of him; Rookwood and the French wizard were crafting a Frankensteinian monster in front of him.

Tall and handsome with pale skin and dark black hair, the golem in front of him stared off expressionlessly, an empty husk.

"He's beautiful." The elder wizard stated in wonder; circling his creation, eying it from every angle.

Off to the side the spirits had calmed, becoming one.

The elder necromancer began chanting rapidly, waving his wand wildly as he did so, directing the unstable soul into the golem in front of him.

After several long moments, the lifeless eyes of the husk blinked twice rapidly before the irises began glowing a bright red, its face coming to life as a smile formed on its handsome face, exposing a set of flawless teeth.

Voldemort was alive.

* * *

He scratched his chin in thought - an old habit he had picked up from Gellert during one of their many intense debates decades prior - as he only half-heartedly paid attention to the man in front of him.

"I understand your concern, Igor. But I cannot consent to allowing Durmstrang to punish Hogwarts students, no matter how enthusiastic you may be."

' _Either I'm going senile.'_ He smiled in amusement - while his body may have been decaying, his one hundred and twenty-year-old mind had never been sharper. ' _Or we've had this conversation before.'_

It would appear that Fred and George Weasley had taken advantage of the opportunity to market their products to their foreign guests; and while he had to applaud their entrepreneurship, it was the manner in which they were marketing their products that the man in front of him took issue with.

"I must object, Albus!" Igor stated, in what he assumed was his most menacing demeanor; "if 'ogwarts won't do anything about the red devils, Durmstrang must!"

The headmaster of Hogwarts worked to contain a snort at Igor's nickname for the Weasley twins and was debating ways to pass the information along to them when his eyes met Severus's as the younger man slipped out of the Great Hall.

A nearly imperceptible nod - a gesture he had only picked up after years of working with the crafty spy - was all the information he needed.

"I will write to their mother, Igor." He replied with a chuckle, having no intention of subjecting the boys to the ire of Molly Weasley; "she will talk some sense into them, I'm sure of it."

Albus then excused himself, ignoring those vying for his time as he made his way towards Nymphadora, who was monitoring the punch bowl off to the far side of the hall.

"Nymphadora, I believe your shift is over."

The young warrior nodded sharply at the prepared dismissal before making her way to the door.

It had been a pleasant surprise to learn that Harry had taken the initiative to form his own alliances, and the information regarding Tom's plans for Amelia had been the result of the boy's uneasy truce.

After the information had been verified by Severus, unbeknownst to anyone but himself, he had proactively moved Amelia to a safe house along the coast of Wales.

Seeing Minister DuPont and his wife alone several meters away, Dumbledore offered the man a warm smile; "Minister DuPont! Hogwarts is honored to host you and your wife this Yule!"

Albus spent the next half hour milling around the hall, speaking to whomever caught his fancy till he felt something warm in his left-breast pocket.

Tonks and Moody were in position.

The plan wasn't overly complex, relying primarily on the element of surprise as opposed to some grand display of strategy.

Ten minutes after Tonks had delivered her message he caught Severus entering the hall once more, a slightly frantic look in his eye as he made his way towards him.

A flick of his wrist erected some privacy wards as Severus delivered the news.

"He's back." Was all his potions professor stated before walking off.

The announcement wasn't a surprise to Albus, he had been expecting as much, ever since William had followed Augustus Rookwood to Little Hangleton.

Excusing himself from the hall, Albus took a handful of passages to quickly retreat to his office.

Without breaking pace he walked past the shelves of trinkets and prying portraits towards the fireplace before grabbing a handful of floo powder and shouting out the correct address.

He only had to wait several seconds before a tall man with long, curly red hair answered his call.

"Headmaster." There was no surprise in Williams's voice, only a calm reassurance, as if he had been expecting his visit.

Not for the first time Albus felt optimistic about William and Nymphadora's future leading the Order.

"William, it's time."

The young man stepped aside, allowing him through the fireplace and into the man's elegant townhome in the upscale Whisper Alley.

William's walls were adorned with pictures of his family, causing the headmaster to smile brightly at the bond the young man shared with those he loved.

Arthur and Molly beamed with pride whenever they spoke about their eldest son.

" _One of ten, Albus! Bill was one of only ten applicants in Europe to be accepted into Gringotts curse-breaking program!"_

Arthur had been right to be proud, the job was one of the most prestigious - and lucrative - professions in the country.

Contrary to popular belief, curse-breaking was so much more than ward schemes, arithmancy, and dark curses.

Curse Breakers traveled the world, examining ancient schemes as they desperately tried to unleash the secrets they protected, then they developed new schemes that would allow safe passage, and while that was a large part of their job, it wasn't their only responsibility.

Curse-breakers were much more than that - they dealt with wildlife, indigenous tribes, managed conflicts within their own teams, negotiated contracts, and ensured the safety of not only their own teams, but of the treasure they were contracted to find as well.

The physical, mental, and sociological training involved in becoming a Gringotts Certified Curse Breaker had earned William Weasley a twenty five year contract with the bank, after which he would be free to take on his own clients.

Curse Breakers were part businessman, part mercenary, and part team leader; a combination that made them exceptionally capable in just about any situation.

For Bill to accomplish that feat before the age of thirty was almost unheard of.

Albus grabbed the tall man by the shoulder, and a second later - they were gone.

* * *

Voldemort's long, dark wand seemed to vibrate lovingly as the newly re-incarnated dark lord took a moment to inspect the instrument that had brought the world so much misery.

"It has been well maintained." The dark lord said, a hint of approval in his tone.

"Yes, my lord. Lucius anticipated your return, and insisted that your wand remain maintained to your standards at all times."

Voldemort held his wand chest high, shutting his narrow eyes for a long moment.

The magic that saturated the air was intense and calm, filling the room with a sense of foreboding.

"He will be rewarded."

"Marcel." Voldemort started, turning his head to the elder French necromancer. "Were you able to learn anything from our accidental horcrux?" He asked, acknowledging his presence for the first time.

The thought that he had spent the first fourteen years of his life as one of Voldemort's horcruxes had shattered his confidence.

' _Who am I?'_

His entire character had been defined by his intellectualism, tenacity, and competence; even when he lived as a muggle, he had prided himself on how clever he was, how _superior_ he was intellectually.

Had that all been a lie? Had the horcrux living within him come to dominate and define who he had become?

"No, my lord." The French wizard eyed him hungrily. "It will take some study to come to any sort of conclusion."

Voldemort seemed to weigh his options internally before coming to some sort of decision.

"You have five minutes, Marcel, accomplish what you can."

The necromancer made to protest before he began waving his wand in a precise manner around the room.

"You fascinate me, Harry Potter." Voldemort started, addressing him for the first time.

"You're too smart to not have noticed the similarities between us?"

Harry smiled savagely at the opportunity Voldemort had provided him with.

"The fact that we are both orphans? Or perhaps it's the fact that we're both half-bloods, isn't that right, Tom?"

His words didn't seem to have the desired effect as Marcel's wand didn't stop moving, while Rookwood, and even Wormtail showed no visible reaction to his revelation.

Voldemort offered him a pitiful smile; "were you expecting more of a reaction, Harry?"

He had, in fact been expecting more of a reaction.

' _Voldemort's followers knew his history?'_ Or was it just the inner circle?

"But yes, we have a similar heritage. But we share more than that."

He didn't need the dark lord to explain further; their aptitude for magic, the fact that they were both parselmouths, even their attitudes - if Tom Riddle's diaries were accurate - were similar.

"I've been very impressed, Harry, with your performance in the tournament."

The memory of seeing Crouch throughout the tournament shot through his mind.

' _He's been everywhere.'_ The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had access to every part of the ministry, it was impossible to tell who Voldemort may have recruited.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the show." He found himself responding, a tone of casual defiance laced his voice.

He grimaced uncomfortable as Marcel continued to run tests on him.

"Tell me, Harry. How far were you able to venture into Salazar's Chamber?"

His question seemed genuine, as if the pair were continuing a conversation they had had some time earlier.

The fact that Voldemort knew that _he_ knew of the Chamber of Secrets terrified him as he tried to calm himself.

"Not far."

And he hadn't, something he had been meaning to rectify.

' _Was he watching me? Or the Chamber?'_

"Do you have any advice?"

' _Or both?'_

His flippant response caused Voldemort to smile savagely.

"None that you will need."

Rookwood interrupted their banter to whisper in Voldemort's ear, causing him to smile in what looked like anticipation.

"I'm afraid your time is running out, Harry Potter." Voldemort said as the ropes binding his wrists disappeared.

"I'll allow you one last duel, Harry Potter."

With that, Voldemort smiled charmingly at Rookwood. "Don't let anyone say I'm not a benevolent Lord."

Released from his binds with his wand in his hands, Harry smiled internally.

' _Voldemort made a mistake.'_

Harry shut his eyes and immediately visualized the apparition point at Diagon Alley, calming himself he let his magic wash over him, willing his body to move to the dingy alleyway right outside of Gringotts.

He felt his magic hit a harsh barrier, causing him to open his eyes abruptly, much to the amusement of Voldemort.

"You don't have the right mark to leave this room, Harry." Voldemort chided. "It's time to accept your fate."

With barely a flick, spells were hurled at him at an incredible rate, causing him to dodge deftly throughout the room.

In front of him Voldemort threw his head backwards in laughter as he continued to fill the room with the light of spell fire.

' _I have to get out of here.'_ He thought in a panic as he batted away a blood-boiler.

His opponent took pity on him, stopping the onslaught momentarily, allowing him to return fire.

Quickly he filled the room with a bright light before casting a bubblehead charm on himself before conjuring a thick, poisonous smoke in the small room.

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction he pointed his wand at the brick wall before unleashing the most powerful blasting charm he knew.

Filling the air with dust and rubble, he hustled his way through the large opening and out into the elements.

The freezing rain from earlier had turned into a heavy snow, severely decreasing his visibility as he tried to trek his way past the wards.

From behind him he heard laughing.

"You can't run from fate, Harry Potter!" The cackling voice of Voldemort rang out through the wind and snow.

From his peripherals he saw a deadly green curse flash over his shoulder as he felt the panic begin to rise in his chest.

' _Just a little further.'_ He thought to himself as he zigged and zagged towards where he thought the property ended.

He dodged again, forcing him back towards his right and into the way of a curse.

He felt the bones in his legs splinter and break the surface of his skin, causing him to howl in pain as he collapsed to his knees.

' _Just a little further.'_ He thought desperately as he tried to crawl towards the edge of the property.

A closer-than-expected laugh caused him to look up.

Not ten meters away stood Voldemort wand raised, the maledictus at his side.

A booming noise to the west stole his attention, causing him to sigh in relief at the sight.

Making their way towards him was Albus Dumbledore, in the same ridiculous bright purple robes he was wearing to the Yule Ball, battling a half dozen masked men with a calm ease, flanked by a tall well-built man he recognized as Bill Weasley, who was spewing fire from his wand, directing it at a hoard of inferi.

The repeated explosions captured Voldemort's attention as well, causing him to abandon his pursuit of Harry to take care of the greater threat.

The dark lord stared longingly at him for several seconds before giving Nagini his attention.

" _Kill him."_ Voldemort stated before floating off towards Albus Dumbledore.

The gigantic snake turned towards him, hissing menacingly as it deftly dodged his increasingly desperate onslaught of spells.

' _What do I do?'_ He thought to himself.

Without a drastic action, he was dead in under a minute.

The realization calmed him, causing him to reflect on a conversation he had had with Snape several weeks prior.

" _Balls of flame, Potter?"_ The mocking tone of his potions master butted its way through his head. " _I hope you're never in any real danger."_

The spell that had got him disqualified from the battle wouldn't be good enough here, he thought as the serpent made to lunge at him.

Conjuring a thick granite wall to buy himself some time, Harry took a deep breath before turning his attention back towards the threat at his forefront.

He had never attempted to summon the hellfire, and had only read the theory of the incredibly dangerous spell.

' _Desperate times.'_ He thought as he cleared his head of doubt.

" _Fiendfyre!"_ He yelled at the top of his lungs.

The cursed flame erupted from his wand, melting the granite and the snow around him as he struggled to contain the flames.

He felt sweat drip down his worn face as he attempted to direct the fire towards the massive snake that was now fleeing in the opposite direction.

And for a second he was in complete control; wielding the legendary flame with a sense of confidence.

That confidence disappeared as he felt his control fade as the flames broke free, finding its way into the graveyard that adorned the outer edges of the snow-covered property.

All the while Nagini slithered in a desperate attempt to avoid the inevitable.

With the fire closing in, the snake let out one last desperate cry; " _MASTERRR!"_ It pleaded as the flames began to engross its tail.

An otherworldly scream broke through the air, causing the other combatants to stop and watch in astonishment as a familiar black shade tried to escape from Nagini, only to be enveloped in the cursed flames.

Two screams simultaneously filled the air as the fragment of Voldemort's soul was joined in its agony by the man himself.

"HARRY!" He heard through the screaming, causing him to look up in surprise at Bill Weasley, who was tossing him his necklace.

Without thinking, Harry snatched the necklace out of the sky, causing him to relax as he felt the familiar tug of a portkey pull at his navel.

* * *

Bellatrix walked purposefully from the room, knowing that the next time she saw her lord he will have finally regained his body after fourteen long years.

The thought brought her a sense of peace.

Young Bellatrix Black had never found the appeal in Andromeda's novels or Narcissa's frilly dresses - her Uncle Arcturus had seen to that.

To cope, she had sought pleasure in the destructive nature of magic - locking herself away in one of her ancestral homes spell rooms for hours on end with the goal of destroying the protective wards surrounding the room.

Her childhood came to a head when she had nearly killed her Uncle when she was twelve.

She had finished the deed at his Italian lake home when she was fifteen.

Reaching the apparition point, she disappeared silently, reappearing a half second later in a small rectangular room adorned with rich mahogany.

"Dolohov, Carrow" she snapped, drawing the attention of the sadistic man and the pair of unhinged twins in front of her. "What sort of protections surround the property?"

Dolohov was the most competent member of the trio, but it was the destructive, mindless, mayhem offered by the Carrow twins that would keep any opposition at bay.

After the _incident_ when she was twelve, her father had sent her to Ophelia; and although the old bitch was dead, she found herself reciting the witch's pre-battle checklist.

"Gringotts wards, but not top of the line, Eggers says." Alecto began.

"Lady Bones finds the top of the line precautions to be too rigid for her busy life." Amycus butted in, finishing the explanation for his sister.

"Her desire for comfort will cost her her life."

The twins laughed in unison at her little barb and she motioned for Dolohov to give his update.

"Damocles is on duty tonight, he has confirmed that Amelia Bones has not left her house since last evening."

Bellatrix nodded sharply.

"What are our numbers?"

"Including the four of us we have twelve."

The numbers weren't ideal, but with her and Antonin leading the charge, they wouldn't be lacking in skill.

"Amycus, Alecto."

Power - that's what drove loyalty. Whether serving someone more powerful, or the promise of obtaining power for oneself did not matter - the hungry looks on the troll-like twins in front of her were proof of that.

"What is your team's role?"

Ophelia's checklist was for the officers, not the general; her mentor had taught her.

" _Make them remind you of the details. If they cannot recite them, they are not ready for battle."_

As she continued with her inquisition, Bellatrix found her mind wandering towards her old mentor.

Grindelwald's brutal General, more than even her lord, was responsible for who she had become.

Not for the first time Bellatrix found herself chiding her younger self for being so reliant on the older woman, for revealing so much.

' _I'll have to accelerate my plans.'_ She thought with a frown as Alecto finished her report.

"Stick to the plan." She finished, signifying the end of their conversation, before disapparating with a near-silent _*pop.*_

* * *

Bill paused suddenly, his face taking on a decidedly more cautious look as he waded through some of the more interesting ward structures he had ever come across.

"What's the matter, William?"

The redhead smiled cockily, there was something about the legendary Albus Dumbledore using him as a subject matter expert that cracked through his humble nature.

The timely question allowed him a moment to clearly examine each rune and ward.

' _Don't forget to annunciate this time, Bill!'_

After he was nearly killed while writing notes in his journal in Mexico, he had invested in a pensieve at the recommendation of a colleague.

Unfortunately, he often forgot to explain the wards in detail out loud, forcing him to re-decipher them when he revisited the memories later.

"The wards are quite exotic."

If he was being honest with himself, the way in which Voldemort combined two distinct ward structures to create one extremely deadly structure was beyond impressive. The patience required to determine the arithmancy for such a volatile combination would be difficult to duplicate.

"There are four similar strands I can break down."

All wards had a failsafe in order to keep out intruders it was common to have a couple of false runes, that when touched, would alert the owner of the wards, or injure the intruders.

"These three strands." He pointed to the ugly mustard yellow and black rune structures. "Will torture the intruder to death."

The death wouldn't be quick either; lasting anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour.

Dumbledore scratched his beard thoughtfully.

"Tom always had a thing for the dramatic." The headmasters tone was casual, as if they were discussing transfiguration over tea. "What about the fourth rune set?"

Bill grimaced; the sadistic bastard had included torture as part of the failsafe as well.

"To unravel it, I must pass a test."

Albus grimaced. "Am I to assume it will cause you some pain?"

He nodded at the understatement before taking a deep breath.

"Yes."

The elder man nodded sagely before allowing him to continue.

He waved his wand slowly, and with a bit more caution than was normal for him, finding himself a little less interested with the task at hand than he had a few minutes earlier.

Bill felt the pain building in his body as he worked; first as a dull ache when he disabled the outer set of runes, then as an unbearable stabbing as imaginary daggers punctured his body, making it hard to focus and harder to breath as he disabled the slightly more complicated middle runes.

He clamped down on his occlumency as he grinded his teeth - it was too late now, if he quit, the wards were likely to kill him.

He felt his mind beginning to rebel as he dropped to his knees in agony.

Fighting through the pain, Bill wiped the sweat from his brow, and in a moment of clarity moved to disable the third and final rune set.

Disabling the first rune, he felt the ground shake slightly.

' _Shit.'_

"They know we're here." His voice sounded weak as he forced the words out.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered Dumbledore's worried face as he took on his dueling stance.

Forcing his mind to work, he hastily disabled the last ward, causing the earth to moan in response.

The pain disappeared a moment later, leaving him slightly sore.

A loud explosion caught his attention.

"There's no time to waste, William." the wizened older wizard said conversationally as he began to move.

"I believe Mr. Potter needs our help."

* * *

Upon landing in the shin-deep snow, she immediately cast a quick warming charm on herself, followed by a spell to keep the snow out of her face.

The spell work did nothing for Bellatrix's vision, however, causing her to sigh in frustration, forcing her to call out to the rest of the team verbally.

Upon hearing their responses, Bellatrix found her way over to a younger Death Eater with his mask removed.

Sensing her presence, the young man turned to face her.

"Five minutes, Lady Lestrange." He answered her unasked question with only the slightest hint of trepidation to his voice.

Off to the side, Amycus and Alecto Carrow were guiding four Death Eaters into position, while Antonin and his group of five had spread out to cover their perimeter.

"Good." She stated bluntly before stepping aside to wait in silence.

The minutes crawled by as the drums of war beat in her ears, strumming up her hibernating lust for battle.

She hadn't been this excited in years.

Her excitement was stymied by the look plastered over Eggers face.

"What's the matter?" She asked, peering over the younger man's shoulders, desperate to see what he saw.

"The wards have been altered."

The statement made her gut roar with caution.

"What does that mean?"

He swallowed hard; "we could be walking into a trap."

"Amycus!" She snapped, drawing the squat man's attention.

"Summon Damocles." She started, calling in reinforcements before the battle had even begun a hint of delight in her voice. "We are not alone here."

A brief look of fear crossed the ugly man's face, causing her to sneer in disgust.

' _Cowards.'_

She felt her anticipation build, even as her worry grew.

' _Someone has betrayed us.'_

The number of people who knew about this plan could be counted on one hand.

' _Who would have the most to gain from my failure?'_

She felt the wards fall, and although she couldn't see the mansion through the heavy wind and thick snowfall, she could picture the small castle and the gardens surrounding Bones manor well enough.

She observed as the Carrow's led their team through the wards and into the open fields that led to Bones manor.

' _Idiots.'_ She thought as she cast disapparition and anti-portkey wards on the property, modifying them slightly so the Death Eaters could still escape if they needed to.

Upon entering the field, the Carrow's immediately found themselves under attack from both sides.

Silencing her boots, Bellatrix crouched down, her white robes making her hard to see in the snowy conditions, and slowly made her way towards the outskirts of the action towards where she knew the enemy to be lying in wait.

She frowned as she watched one of her Death Eaters take a killing curse square to the chest, before quickly seizing the opportunity by reanimating the recently deceased corpse and sending it back towards the enemy.

At about the same time she noticed a large ball of flames making its way towards the enemy's makeshift bunker.

It appeared Damocles and his small group of Aurors had arrived.

Bellatrix cackled in delight as she watched the enemy dive out of the way of the fireball, leaving them open to her attacks.

She flung killing curses haphazardly around the area, hitting several enemies before they had a chance to make out what was happening.

She was interrupted from her bliss by a dangerous looking maroon curse whizzing past her ear.

Turning towards the spells source Bellatrix smiled in delight.

' _It's a family reunion!'_ She thought with glee.

"Nymphadora!" She cooed. "You've gotten so big!"

* * *

The ground beneath their feet began to tear apart as they made their way through the snow, and into the cemetery.

"Be prepared with fire spells, William." Dumbledore reminded him, his voice more alert than before. "Tom wouldn't let a perfectly good graveyard go to waste."

As if on cue a boney creature in tattered robes emerged from the thick snow.

Before the inferi had a chance to act, Dumbledore's flames engulfed the creatures, even as hundreds more started to encroach upon them.

At once he was in action, releasing a torrent of flame from his wand, directing them at the endless hordes of the undead.

"William, in front of you!" Dumbledore cautioned, his eyes never leaving the enemies in front of himself.

Bill felt a boney hand wrap itself around his ankle as the undead creature began to scratch and claw at his leg.

He released more fire, destroying the things around him, giving him a moment to take in his surroundings.

While the snowfall had come to a stop, the heavy wind was still whistling through the air, making it hard to see.

Some meters ahead he saw Dumbledore making his way towards Voldemort, who abandoned his fight with Potter to engage the headmaster, leaving the boy injured and alone with a massive boa constrictor lunging at him.

' _He's overmatched.'_ He stated the obvious in his mind as he came to a conclusion.

Clutching the dragon tooth necklace dangling from his neck, Bill took off at a sprint, allowing his wand to clear a fiery path towards his target.

" _HARRY!"_ He yelled to no avail as the boy conjured a marble wall.

' _Shit.'_ He thought to himself, sensing the end.

He willed his body to move faster as the marble wall was destroyed, leaving nothing between Potter and the giant snake.

Emerging from the rubble, Potter pointed his wand at the beast still trying to attack him.

" _Fiendfyre!"_ Potter yelled, his voice laced with venom.

The snake made no reaction as Potter's flame chased the it around the outskirts of the graveyard.

Raising his wand, Bill was about to help Potter when the cursed flame engulfed the giant serpent, causing it to scream in a high-pitched agony.

A black substance began to rise out of the snake, drawing the attention of the dark lord who was ferociously battling Dumbledore off to the side.

The substance desperately tried to escape the cursed flame, but the flame was winning as the substance slowly began to dissipate.

" _HARRY!"_ He called out again, this time catching the boy's attention.

Tapping the dragon-tooth necklace lightly with his wand, he tossed the boy his emergency portkey, a sense of relief seemed to cross the boy's face as he disappeared a half-second later.

The atmosphere crackled violently as Voldemort screamed in rage at the loss of his snake.

Turning his full attention back towards the headmaster, the dark lord lashed out with a violent new attack, immediately forcing Albus on the defensive.

Voldemort appeared to be exchanging words with the headmaster as Dumbledore furiously backed up, doing the best to use his surroundings to repel the revived dark lord's relentless onslaught.

Dumbledore appeared to turn towards him, attempting to command him to do something.

Distance, wind, and snow seemed to kill out the headmasters command as Voldemort used the distraction to send a violent black disc towards the headmaster.

"THE WARDS!" He heard as the disc severed Dumbledore's wand arm from his body.

Not having a chance to chide himself on his obvious oversight, Bill set to work lowering the anti-apparition wards.

Feeling the wards holding him back dissipate, he saw Dumbledore grab his severed arm and disappear silently, leaving him alone with Voldemort.

Not wanting to stick around, Bill disappeared from Little Hangleton with a loud crack a half-second later.

* * *

Always feeling slightly more comfortable in the heat of battle, Alastor watched the scene around him quietly, content to let the younger members of the Order do battle with the Death Eaters while he hunted for members of Voldemort's inner-circle.

Seeing Tonks and her team engaged with Damocles and the rest of the Carrows, Moody stayed vigilant, looking for Antonin Dolohov and his team.

Using his glass eye to see through the storm, Moody observed the woods for body heat before smiling.

"Fifty meters into the woods!" He barked at his team. "There's another five of them."

While his team silently dispersed to take care of the threat, Moody guided Potter's flying carpet higher, hoping to catch the escaped Russian by surprise.

Moody's scarred face smiled a crooked smile as he caught sight of the dark-haired man who was disposing of one of the Order's youngest fighters.

' _Shit.'_ He thought as he raised his wand, unloading a barrage of spells towards the Death Eater.

The coward shielded the first handful of spells desperately before his initial salvo broke through, battering the man with a barrage of bone-breakers, causing him to cry out in pain.

The man took his intact arm and began digging around in his pocket wildly as Moody closed the gap.

' _Not today, motherfucker.'_ Moody thought as he unleashed a killing curse at the man who was now attempting to flee.

As the emerald green curse closed the gap between Moody and his target, Dolohov disappeared.

* * *

Her niece wore quality dueling robes - Horntail, if she was correct, and stood in a familiar crouch, causing her to smile in pleasant surprise.

Instead of responding, Nymphadora opened up with a multitude of complex spells aimed at ending the battle before it began.

Bellatrix smiled as she cast a bubble head charm on herself as the brat constricted the air around her, hoping to simultaneously choke her out and light her on fire.

With a wave of her wand Bellatrix found herself back on the offensive as she aggressively countered her niece's deadly attacks.

The pair danced in the heavy snow exchanging spell fire for nearly a minute, neither bothering with shields as they pressed to kill the other.

' _She's mimicking my style.'_ Bellatrix thought, impressed despite herself.

Her opponent dodged nimbly before taking a bone piercing curse to the shoulder, the sacrifice saving her sternum from destruction.

Bellatrix frowned as none of her nieces attacks were coming close to their mark, robbing her of the challenge she deserved.

' _She can't see me.'_

Possibilities swirled in her mind as she re-applied the silencing charm on herself while evaluating her options.

Smiling cruelly, removing a silver dagger - a gift from her father - from its scabbard hidden on her thigh.

Quietly she watched from the shadows as her niece, illuminated by the moonlight, carefully scoured the area for signs of her.

"You can't hide from me forever, Aunt Bellatrix!"

She grinned inwardly as she approached the confident girl from behind, dagger raised.

"It's time we had a little -"

Her niece wasn't able to finish her sentence as Bellatrix's dagger sliced downwardly, right to left through the bitch's robes, splattering the snow with dark red blood.

Nymphadora let out a pained cry as she turned around sloppily in search of her.

"There's nothing to say, my dear." Bellatrix started as she circled her niece from the shadows once more, waiting for her to gather her wits before attempting another attack.

"I don't talk to the dead."

This time she attacked from the right, causing her niece's eyes to widen in shock as Bellatrix charged at her, her bloody dagger glistening in the moonlight.

Nymphadora fired off a killing curse, causing Bellatrix to cackle in laughter as she dodged to the left closing the gap between them, this time stabbing her niece in the abdomen.

Taking refuge in the shadows once more, Bellatrix found herself happier than she'd been in years as she prepared one last attack.

Twenty meters in front of her she watched as her prey struggled to remain upright, blood flowing from both of her wounds.

For years Andromeda had ignored her sister's pleas for help, allowing her to suffer at their Uncle's hand.

Maybe killing her only child would allow her sister to feel her pain?

Calmly she walked out of the shadows, a cruel smile on her lips as she walked towards the struggling witch in front of her.

"Goodbye, Nymphadora." She said before planting the dagger in the younger woman's chest and disapparating away.

* * *

 **AN:** This was a lot of fun to write, and I'm pleased with how it turned out. Hopefully there's some payoff in here for those who thought the plot was moving too slow. With the exception of next chapter (which I think will be significantly shorter, perhaps the shortest of the story) from here on it should be a whirlwind.

.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKR. I contain my jealousy by reminding myself that that includes " **Harry Potter and the Cursed Child,"** she can keep that garbage.

* * *

"Son of a bitch."

He mumbled to himself as hot coffee dribbled down the front of his off-white healer's robes.

Healer O'Malley flicked his wand deftly, watching with dismay as the vast majority of the coffee disappeared, leaving behind the faded remnants of the dark liquid.

He quickly re-applied the stain-proofing charms to his robes, chastising himself for letting them lapse in the first place.

Picking up his pace, he made a hard left, determined to show up on time to his next appointment.

Healer O'Malley squeezed his way past a handful of nurses who were frantically gathering all the blood-replenishers they could find and continued briskly on his journey.

Still muttering to himself, he turned into the private room at the end of the hall.

"You're late." The impatient voice of the young witch admonished.

O'Malley felt himself bite his tongue, holding back a somewhat sarcastic retort in an effort not to irritate the ornery metamorphmagus.

"My apologies, Miss Tonks." He said, ignoring the copper taste of blood that was beginning to pool in the back of his mouth as he forced cheerfulness into his tone.

The Black Heiress seemed to see through his faux apology, affixing him with a frown, causing him to squirm under her gaze, making healer O'Malley feel as though he had to justify his tardiness.

"There was an attack on the ministry's grain reserves this morning."

His patient took on an annoyed expression.

"I wasn't aware that that attack had need for _healers._ " She said, unconsciously rubbing her chest where he knew an ugly, black, scarred patch of skin to reside.

He winced slightly. She was right; the attackers were massacred.

Miss Tonks had been close to death when she had been admitted nearly a month ago, the poison that had laced Bellatrix Lestrange's dagger had seen to that.

Healer O'Malley weighed his answer carefully, not wanting to upset the dangerous witch.

"We received three patients from the incident." He stated hesitantly, hoping the ambiguity of _who_ the survivors were would slip past the sharp young witch.

His attempt to get one past her failed, he noticed as he eyed the witch in front of him with caution as her hair started cycling through a flurry of colors.

He had been excited when he had been named as Miss Tonks' attending healer.

He had taken his two daughters to the champion duelist's seminal victory against Igor Dankov in London a few years back.

The three watched in awe as Nymphadora Tonks, Britain's rising star, demolished Siberia's legendary duelist in under five minutes.

His daughters, particularly Kiera, had been ecstatic to find a female role model in a male-dominated sport.

The young woman eyed him neutrally for a long moment, staring at him in consternation as if she was trying to solve some complex equation.

Coming to a conclusion, she offered him a wicked smile; "I'll give you a thousand galleons for the names of the surviving assailants, as well as five hundred galleons for the names of the deceased Death Eaters."

He bristled at her attempt to bribe him for confidential information.

' _She's deranged.'_ He thought; idly wondering if the insanity of Bellatrix Lestrange was a familial trait.

While he couldn't tell Kiera and Mary that he was treating their young hero, he had been excited to procure an autograph, even if he had found his introduction to the young star to be underwhelming.

His excitement at the opportunity to treat the young star had waned as soon as he'd met her.

She was insecure, delusional, and prone to mood swings, he had dismissed his patient's claims without hesitation, referring her to a mind healer soon after the attack she had survived.

Her unstable attitude made her actions no-less heroic; earning her an Order of Merlin, Second Class for her troubles.

After Auror Moody and his patient had defended Lady Bones' residence from the onslaught brought on by Bellatrix Lestrange and her thugs, they had come back spouting nonsense about dead dark lords.

"Miss Tonks, you know I cannot do that."

Despite the impropriety, he could at least empathize with her – he could understand wanting to take retribution - even if he found her violent intentions to be barbaric.

The Hogwarts defense professor looked like she wanted to retort but bit her tongue instead.

Deciding to get on with it, healer O'Malley offered his patient a soft smile.

Sensing his next set of instructions, her mood changed on a whim as a sly smile tugged at the attractive witch's lips while her body began to shift once more.

Slowly she began to unbutton the front of her tightening blouse, causing him to stare momentarily at her exposed, and now abnormally large breasts.

His stare caused her smirk to turn into a victorious smile.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk - doc." She said wagging her eyebrows wildly. "Does your wife know you stare at other women?"

He rolled his eyes at her antics, long since having gotten used to them.

Not getting the reaction she wanted, Tonks pouted softly before rearranging her anatomy to a more proportional size.

"Thank you." He said evenly.

She rolled her eyes, her face contorting back into an expressionless mask as he slowly ran a few standard tests on her cursed scar.

The dagger that had impaled the young woman had been laced with a poison that had rotted the flesh on her chest, causing it to appear a sickly gray.

Without prompt treatment it would have killed her.

Poking the damaged skin lightly, he looked back up at the young professor hopefully.

"Do you feel that?"

For a moment he saw a flash of fear in her eyes, and he was reminded that despite what the Prophet had been saying about her, he was still dealing with a young woman not even ten years older than his youngest daughter.

"No." She said, her vacant voice a near whisper.

His expression softened, the remnants of the poison were still affecting her nervous system, and while he never expected the flesh to fully recover, he had remained optimistic that with treatment his patient's nervous system would begin to repair itself.

Moving his way over to the still-healing dagger wound, he waved his wand quickly, idly noticing the somewhat worried look on Miss Tonks face.

While he certainly didn't believe their claims that Voldemort was back, it was hard to ignore the threat that Bellatrix Lestrange, at the very least, seemed to present.

Dumbledore's impassioned speech on the floor of the Wizengamot about defending the Isles from threats within her own borders re-affirmed that belief and had shifted the national spotlight away from corruption and back to security.

The early morning attempt on the nation's food supply had legitimized Dumbledore's words.

He gave a relieved sigh as he read the results of the test, causing his patient to perk up slightly.

"The wound is healing nicely, Miss Tonks."

His patient stared off distantly for several long moments, causing him to call out for her once more.

"Miss Tonks?"

She turned to him, her face full of emotion.

"Thank you." Her voice was laced with sincerity, causing him to pause momentarily before offering her his own smile.

"Anytime, Miss Tonks."

As he left the room he found himself baffled at his patient, whose mood, much like her hair, seemed to change on a whim.

* * *

The conference room was far too large for the event, he mused to himself as he allowed his eyes to dart around the room.

The room at the Gelded Griffin was used primarily as a breakout room for the larger conferences that frequented Diagon Alley's classic hotel.

The four of them could have had this meeting in a much smaller room within the Three Broomsticks, but he supposed it was oddly appropriate for his brothers.

"Thank you for coming." George greeted, firmly grasping his hand as he did so.

Fred repeated the gesture, as Charlie shot an amused glance towards Bill, only to see him offering Fred a casual hug.

"Thanks for bringing him, Bill."

' _I've been set up.'_ Charlie thought amused despite himself.

Fred continued by greeting him more formally.

He always groaned at the phrase 'identical twins,' having learned long ago that while they may look similar, the pair had two distinct personalities.

"Thank you for inviting me." He exclaimed courteously, deciding to play along, for now.

The twins shared a quick glance, before Fred offered them a smile.

"It's Bill you should be thanking."

Simultaneous looks of gratitude were shot towards his older brother, who smiled kindly at the praise.

"He believed in our vision." Fred continued confidently.

"His belief led you to us." George finished, slightly less confident than his older brother.

He groaned as he realized what this was.

"We're offering you an opportunity to invest in our vision." Fred's voice oozed charisma while his body language expressed a certain sense of self-confidence, no doubt honed through years of pitching George's creations to their guinea pigs.

For years the twins had insisted to their mother that they were going to open their own joke store someday, and for years mum had had conniptions over their post-Hogwarts plans.

Personally, he had always suspected it was more of a way to wind her up than a proclamation of future intent.

As Fred jumped into his pitch, Charlie chanced a glance at Bill, who looked rather bored by the whole thing.

Bill's interest perplexed him; what did they do to sell their careful older brother?

The presentation was good, he admitted as he found himself interacting with his brothers as they bounced energetically around the room, playing the enthusiastic showmen, asking for his help in demonstrating several products, laughing at the whimsical reactions they inspired.

Hesitantly he took a bite of the proffered taffy; he briefly tasted a hint of cherry on his tongue before he felt his stomach stir.

Suddenly he found himself emptying the contents of his stomach into a bucket that had appeared on the table.

Out of the corner of his eye, as he continued to heave until he saw Bill offering him another piece of taffy.

Grasping it desperately, Charlie waited for a break in the vomiting before forcing it down.

Instantly the puking stopped, and he found himself back to normal.

"Skiving Snackboxes." George said, more than a hint of pride in his voice.

"Three sickles each and they come in seven flavors!" Fred added. "That's a 33% profit margin." He finished smugly.

Molly Weasley spent years griping about the loud experiments coming from the twins room in the middle of the night, the never-ending detentions, and the cavalier attitude Fred and George took towards their studies.

His brothers had always been smart, even if his mother was too dense to see it.

"And you made these?" He said.

Fred must have heard the disbelief in his voice. "Of course he did!" The older twin exclaimed proudly. "EVERY product we will sell will be a Weasley creation."

It was hard to ignore the passion in Fred's voice as he spoke.

Charlie thought for a second.

"How will you reproduce these on a large enough scale?"

George beamed with pride; "I can reproduce all six of our products on a large enough scale to sell, it's a relatively simple production that is teachable, so as we expand I can focus my time less on production, and more on research and development."

Fred nodded in agreement; "we've been selling our products across Hogwarts, taking advantage of our foreign guests to cultivate an international audience."

Correctly sensing that his odds were increasing, Fred pushed forward; "we hope to open a stand in Diagon Alley by the end of June, while opening a second stand in Hogsmeade for weekends when students will be around."

"Don't forget the owl service." George chirped in; always slightly more extroverted when Fred was taking the lead.

"Right-o smart twin!" Fred quipped.

"I thought I was the good-looking one?" George shot back, sounding put out.

"Don't be daft!"

The scene caused him to laugh, giving him an opportunity to catch his senses.

"Between permits, inventory, and staff I'm not sure what I could offer would make much of a difference."

His voice carried his genuine disappointment at the lost opportunity.

To his surprise, the twins didn't look the least bit concerned, neither did Bill, for that matter.

"Don't worry about the staff." George quipped. "We can operate the stand over the summer, I'm sure Ron and Ginny would jump at the chance to earn some pocket money while we save up to hire a staff."

"And we have other investors that are taking care of the permits." Fred added.

Charlie glanced at Bill.

Seeing his brothers smug smile, Charlie saw a problem with the timeline.

"Getting the permits by June isn't possible. Not without friends in the Wizengamot." He deadpanned.

Bill's smile widened, and it suddenly became apparent to him.

That girl Bill spent so much time with, the one who had invited him to that evening's heavily shrouded meeting, the duelist, Nymphadora Tonks.

She voted the Black and Potter seats in the Wizengamot.

The triumvirate of Black, Greengrass, and Potter had been surprisingly active in the Wizengamot of late, making news on the continent for forcing through Britain's new anti-corruption measures, as well as the increased defense budget.

With the passing of the late Lord Black, the votes he had controlled had become a lot more aggressive as of late.

"We already have the permits." Fred said smugly, glancing at Bill briefly, confirming his suspicions.

"How much did Bill pledge?" Charlie asked happy that his brothers may get a shot at their dreams so early in their careers.

The twins glanced at each other before answering in unison.

"Five thousand galleons."

Charlie groaned, not surprised at the generous amount before assessing his own finances.

"Twenty-five hundred galleons. That's what I can give you."

It was Fred that answered; "then we can give you ten percent." The handsome twin said with a smile.

* * *

Fleur took a hard left into the girls lavatory, narrowing her shoulders to avoid a vaguely familiar girl with brown hair, tired hazel eyes, and a kind smile as she did so.

She flicked her wand and exhaled heavily at the results of the ' _hominem revelio'_ charm.

She was all alone.

Twirling a strand of platinum hair with her ring finger, she began briskly pacing the length of the narrow bathroom anxiously, nervous despite herself.

She paused to take in her appearance in the ceiling-length mirror, scrutinizing herself for the slightest of imperfections.

Her face turned to a look of disgust as she caught sight of her heather robes before tapping them with her wand.

' _I could have sworn I'd already done this.'_ She thought as her robes straightened themselves out.

Her eyes moved to her hair, causing her to frown again.

Removing the elastic that held her hair in check, Fleur let her fingers run through her just-past shoulder length hair, making sure to remove any vestiges of the single braid that had tied it all together just moments before.

Taking some time to calm herself, she admired the chaos of her straw mane, before practicing her most charming smile, and tapping her cheek with her wand.

Feeling her breath freshen, the Beauxbatons Champion returned her attention to her hair, softly touching it with her wand, watching as the strands straightened themselves, making itself manageable, but nowhere near perfect.

Taking out the first thing she ever enchanted - an ornate golden hairbrush - and admiring it with protective eyes, she ran he comb through her mess of tangles.

Her thick, unruly, blonde hair, she mused, had inspired her obsession with charms long before her first year at Beauxbatons.

Sick of laboring over her appearance, a seven-year-old Fleur had taken her mother's advice and, with her help, began researching ways to make life more manageable.

Her first issue, she had realized, had been her hair. Specifically, how difficult it was to manage.

Her first solution had been potions, a quick application to a normal hair brush could undo her knots in moments, but she realized she lacked the patience for such a delicate art, and had moved on to charms, quickly discovering one which she could apply to her hairbrush.

Her mastery of the simple charm had led her to pursue other ways to improve her life through magic.

Sometime during her second year she had become annoyed with having to apply the individual charm to her brush every morning, leading her to research a more permanent solution.

Her hairbrush, a creation that took most of the summer before her third year, was the result.

Satisfied with her appearance, Fleur took one last look at herself in the mirror before exiting the loo and heading towards her destination.

"Fleur!"

The dark-haired woman exclaimed expressively as she stepped into Septima's private quarters.

The soon-to-be eighteen-year-old met the older witch in the center of the room, grasping her tightly, letting her embrace linger as she took in the smell of honey and vanilla that assaulted her senses.

"I'm so proud of you." The older woman gushed.

Fleur felt herself flush despite herself as she smiled into the taller woman's shoulder.

When she had discovered Gabrielle missing at breakfast the previous morning she had been worried sick; that worry faded, leaving rage in its place as she prepared for the second task to begin.

It had taken her nearly fifteen minutes to rescue Gabby from the bed of that freezing lake, and despite assurances that the "hostages" were never in any real danger, the whole event had enraged her nonetheless.

"Merci."

"What did your parents have to say after your victory?"

She affixed her false smile as the Runes professor asked about her family.

"They were proud, the whole school was." Her parents had been beaming with pride all afternoon, going out of their way to fawn over her accomplishments, embarrassing her in front of the international media.

Septima nodded enthusiastically. "You were inspiring."

She suspected Septima was using her for information on her family, and the weight of that suspicion had been giving her fits.

' _Am I being paranoid? What value did she provide? Should I stop seeing her?'_ All those thoughts had crossed through her mind before she had finally determined that she did not care.

"Are you still planning on taking a position with your father's firm?"

The pair had spent months like this; meeting privately, first in her old quarters, then in the Deputy Headmistresses quarters after the woman's promotion, exploring Fleur's hopes and dreams, occasionally learning something from the private, older witch.

The impropriety of the relationship helped her cope with the anxiety and desperation that had become her oldest friend.

"I prefer the offer from Gringotts's, but father is skeptical of Britain's safety at the moment."

Finance would never satisfy her in the long-term, and the offer from Gringotts's wasn't going anywhere.

After the recent attacks her family worried enough about the safety of her and Gabby while they were guests at this wretched castle, living in this dreary place full-time during a time of such uncertainty would give her father an aneurism.

Fleur would never forget that boy interrupting the Yule Ball, yelling about a bloody witch in the garden.

The fact that the witch had survived had been a minor miracle, given her condition.

When she regained conscious, the Hogwarts defense professor had been emphatic in her claims that the attack on their head of magical law enforcement had been directed by a dead man.

The memory brought a question to the forefront of her mind.

"Do you remember the first war, Septima?"

A flash of rage seemed to cross her professors attractive face at the question - catching Fleur off-guard - before a kind expression settled across her sharp features.

"My family was killed in a battle between Death Eaters and a vigilante group looking to stop them." The warding expert began.

' _That explains the rage.'_ She thought to herself.

"It wasn't all bad." Septima added, seemingly trying to convince herself more than Fleur.

"After my family was killed I was taken in by a widowed pureblood and her son, I'd been an only child before."

Her voice was contemplative and tinged with sadness as she drifted off, lost in thought at the unpleasant memory.

Fleur felt tears welling up in her eyes, and with slight trepidation she leaned in, pressing her lips lightly against Septima's.

* * *

"Eyes up!" He snapped in annoyance; his trademark scowl the focal point of his otherwise bland face.

The man gave him a clueless look, blinking twice in confusion.

"Damn French." He mumbled to himself. Perplexed as to how the dark lord expected him to train imbeciles who couldn't understand his basic instructions.

"You." He called, pointing at a younger death eater with brown hair who appeared to be switching between French and English intermittently.

The young man glanced up, before standing tensely at attention, waiting for his orders.

"You speak French?"

"Yes sir." The boy answered quickly.

"Translate for me then."

The new recruit nodded respectfully, following a step behind his trainer.

"Tell that dimwit to tighten his grip!"

" _Resserrez votre emprise"_ The boy ordered, causing the recruit to glance between the boy and Snape before nodding his head resolutely.

Severus sighed as the French Auror's second attempt wasn't much better than his first, the bone-splintering curse only coming a few centimeters closer to hitting the impossibly large target.

"Worthless bastard." He mumbled again; silently raising his own wand and firing off a single bone-splintering curse, watching impassively as it effortlessly tore through the dummies faux abdomen.

Snape moved silently through the various death eaters training side by side with a select group of French aurors, assessing the current level of the dark lord's newest recruits.

He watched quietly as a pair of recruits tried to outduel a third who was calmly dodging their meager attempts.

' _They're not anticipating his movements.'_ He thought as the lone recruit finished off his counterparts with a laugh.

"You!" He snapped towards the laughing Death Eater, grabbing his attention.

Silently, Severus stepped into a dueling stance before motioning for the cocky little shit to begin his attack.

He didn't have to wait long before the brunette opened with a couple of familiar cutters.

Severus calmly stepped out of the way of the first few before deflecting a pair of piercing curses and going on the offensive.

He watched silently as he continued to hurl stunners at his opponent, making sure to aim, as the recruits had, directly at him instead of anticipating his movements.

 _Left, forward, backward, right._

The pattern was the same as his duel with his previous opponents.

The smile on his opponents face grew as he continued his dance, avoiding Severus's second year spells.

 _Left, forward, backward…_

Anticipating his next move, a twisted smile crossed Snape's thin lips.

"Crucio!"

He verbalized his spell, anticipating his opponents moves and aiming slightly to the right.

The dark red spell found it's mark, hitting the man in the chest, forcing out an excruciating scream.

' _Weak.'_ He thought in disgust.

' _None of them compare to Potter.'_ He thought with disgust.

More often than not, over the past few weeks, Severus found himself comparing his charges to a fourteen-year-old.

Ending the spell, he hit the man with a silencing charm, not willing to let the fools whimpering disrupt his teaching.

Turning to the small group that had assembled, Snape began his questioning.

"You!" He snapped, pointing to a larger death eater standing off to the side. "What did this idiot do wrong?" He finished, pointing towards his whimpering opponent who had begun violently shaking silently in the center of the half-circle.

"He got hit with an unforgivable." The large man said bluntly, causing the crowd to laugh while Snape growled in frustration.

' _I hope he dies first.'_

The thought caused a savage smile to spread across his face.

"He was cocky and predictable." A second voice cut in.

' _At least someone was paying attention.'_

Severus turned towards the witch who actually appeared to give a damn, offering her a brief nod of approval.

"Predictability leads to death." He stated bluntly, before turning to the fat man once more.

"You must learn to fight through the pain!" He snarled, his voice amplified by magic.

"If you can't fight through the pain, you will die."

His statement was blunt and certain; causing the trainees to pause.

"It's not possible to fight through the Cruciatus Curse."

Occlumency prevented him from rolling his eyes at the common misconception.

' _It's only impossible for the weak.'_

He scoffed at the young witch who dared to question him.

Why was he wasting his time training these fools?

Potter could do much more than fight through it; with Moody as his trainer, the boy had learned to properly cast the spell for himself.

"If a fourteen-year-old can do it, then you need to be able to do it."

An idea popping into his head, Snape smiled before leveling his wand at the witch who had questioned him.

"It seems I have identified a gap in your training."

A panicked look crossed the stern woman's face, causing Snape to smile widely.

Allowing his mind to fill with hatred, Snape snarled; _"Crucio."_

* * *

His shifting weight caused the leather on his chair to squeak loudly in the otherwise empty office.

Flipping the worn page of the delicate journal lightly, Lucius continued in silent contentment, finally happy to have the opportunity to read his father's sprawling journals.

He had had a somewhat strained relationship with the severe man, and he was ashamed to admit that youthful arrogance prevented him from seeking out his counsel while the man was still alive.

For years after his father's death, he had meant to read through the journals that documented most of Abraxas Malfoy's life, only to be pulled into another tedious project. It wasn't until he had taken it upon himself to catalogue the patriarch's study at Malfoy Manor that he had been reminded of his desire to learn more about his late father.

He had been reading for nearly an hour when a throw-away paragraph caught his attention.

Lucius adjusted the light emitting from the lamp on the wall before re-reading the previous paragraph, trying to ensure that he had deciphered the untidy scrawl in front of him correctly.

Poor penmanship, Abraxas Malfoy's secret shame. A defect he refused to let his son carry with him, forcing him to write endless lines in a multitude of fonts, demanding that his son master them all.

" _... even after receiving re-assurances on safety from customs, I quietly questioned the coloring of the Horntail's lung, which appeared, at least to my eye, to be a sickly bright yellow. However, after consulting with our researcher, it was determined that the lung was safe for consumption."_

Lucius's eyes drifted back to the top of the page.

' _March 10th, 1975.'_

A cold fury passed through him as he re-read the passage for the third time.

Bookmarking the page in his father's journal, Lucius made his way over to the westernmost corner of the room, confidently stepping through the wall and into a dimly lit corridor.

Picking up his pace, Lucius found his way to a small, cramped room filled with row upon row of ledgers.

Making a way towards the proper row, Lucius picked up the appropriate ledger, flipping several pages before allowing his eyes to settle on the date he was looking for.

' _3/10/75, Bellatrix Lestrange, Customs.'_

* * *

She woke up with a start, her eyes shooting open as she sat up suddenly in her four-poster bed.

Her silver nighty clung to her tightly as she wrapped her arms protectively across her chest.

After several agonizing moments, Astoria felt her breathing begin to steady.

Glancing about her area, she calmed slightly when she noticed the emerald curtains surrounding her bed were still securely closed, protecting her from the prying eyes of her classmates.

' _It was just a dream.'_ She told herself, only half-convinced.

Closing her eyes, Astoria took a couple more deep breaths before reaching over to her nightstand and grabbing her yew and dragon heartstring wand.

She sighed involuntarily as the comforting warmth of her wand enveloped her, easing her worries slightly as she regained control of herself.

' _But what if it wasn't just a dream?'_ The uncomfortable thought found itself burrowing deeper and deeper into the recesses of her mind, filling her with dreadful thoughts.

' _Brown hair, a girlish laugh, surprise, a familiar face, and a feeling of horror as she is enveloped in light and her mind fades to black.'_

Astoria allowed the comforting feeling of the cool wood between her fingers to calm her as she tapped the lamp above her bed, causing her to squint in displeasure as the area surrounding her bed came alight.

Taking a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, she grabbed the journal and quill sitting on her nightstand, before quickly checking the time.

' _2/17/1995, 4:45.'_

' _Not exactly an ideal start to my Friday.'_ She thought as she sighed in displeasure, wondering if she would be able to catch anymore sleep before breakfast.

Fingering her quill and opening to the first blank page in her dream journal, the younger Greengrass sister tried to clear her mind like Harry had shown her, desperate to remember something new from the nightmare that felt so real.

Giving up a few minutes later, the third-year Slytherin let out a cute harrumph before she began to write down what she could remember of the mysterious nightmare that continued to plague her dreams.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Ambassador."

The polite, if formal, greeting shook Lucius from his thoughts as he offered the man in front of him a polite smile.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Minister Boucher." Lucius replied with a slight Parisian accent.

The Immigration Minister's eyes narrowed slightly, but his facial expression remained neutral.

' _As if he had a choice.'_ He thought to himself.

After putting the idea in Minister DuPont's head, it had taken less than a day before Boucher had quit _ignoring_ his missive's and had given him time on his schedule.

"I have reviewed the proposal endorsed by your Wizengamot and our Minister of Magic, and against my advisement, Minister DuPont has decided to proceed with the proposed agreement between our countries."

' _Of course he has, you idiot.'_

"I understand your trepidation, Louis." He started, a touch of sympathy made his words sound that much more sincere. "Minister Nott sees an open borders agreement between our two great countries as a way to strengthen the bonds of trust between our great nations."

Lucius offered the portly man his most charming smile; "Minister DuPont agrees."

' _Because I told him to.'_ He added silently, taking pleasure in the power he wielded.

Lucius and Louis sat motionlessly for several long moments before the other man found his voice.

"Our alliance is of great importance to me, and this country…" The Immigration Minister started carefully. "It is not something that either country should jeopardize."

Lucius nodded slowly in agreement, sensing the man was building to something.

"But the recent attacks by your _**sister-in-law, Ambassador**_ Malfoy, pose a threat to both our countries national security."

He frowned at the mention of Bellatrix.

"She has been disowned by my wife's family." He said dismissively, not bothering to point out that his wife's family and _his_ family were now on opposites sides of the same conflict. "We strongly condemn her alleged crimes and are working to bring her to justice."

Boucher dismissed his prepared statement casually with a wave of his arm.

"Of course, you do, Ambassador Malfoy." The Immigration Minister added, unconvinced of his statements accuracy. "I just hope your actions match your words."

* * *

He tapped his mahogany desk, deep in thought as he re-read the missive passed on to him by a friend, a man he knew to be close to the Dark Lord, weighing his options.

As he read the brief missive for the third time, he felt his desperation subside as an idea began to build itself in his mind.

Not for the first time Octavius had found himself between his fear of Voldemort and his own lust for power.

For all his ancient family's accomplishments, a Nott had never been appointed 'Minister of Magic.'

Lucius Malfoy had known that and had used Octavius's own desire to distinguish himself among his illustrious family as leverage against him.

Increasing a budget here, turning a blind-eye there; that's what Lucius had sold him on, not something this _monstrous._

The order, of course, hadn't come from Lucius, but from Lestrange; and Bellatrix had been quite insistent in her desire to keep him in the dark for as long as possible.

His hesitation had earned Octavius a howler from _**him.**_

He shuddered at the memory; calm, cool, and deadly; like a serpent preparing to strike its prey.

Not even the Minister of Magic could say no to the Dark Lord.

Calmly, Octavius reached for a quill and some parchment, taking a minute before beginning a letter to his old classmate.

' _Dear Lady Lestrange…'_

Once-upon-a-time he had worked with a young Bellatrix Black in the Trade Office after Hogwarts, where the most the persuasive witch could ask of him was for some forged documents.

Now she asked for significantly more of him.

Finishing up the missive, Octavius Nott sent it off with an ordinary looking barn owl before taking a moment to enjoy the last of a moderately sized glass of Firewhiskey, savoring the bold burning sensation in the back of his throat.

Carrying on with his original idea, the Minister of Magic flicked his wand, activating his offices privacy wards before making his way back over towards his desk, pausing to unlock an unseen drawer.

Removing the worn, leather journal, Minister Nott began writing a second letter.

' _Theodore…'_

* * *

He took a look around the third-floor students lounge casually, searching for a proper target.

' _Bingo.'_ Terry thought to himself as his eyes landed on Zacharias Smith.

With a devious smile, Terry gently pushed his way into the arrogant hufflepuffs mind, searching for the password to his common room.

A moment later he pulled out of his targets mind before quickly jotting down the password to Helga's common room on a piece of parchment. Quietly he placed the piece of parchment face down on the table next to his leather recliner before turning his attention back to the room at large.

The room was rich with excitement following the semifinals of the dueling portion of the tournament that afternoon.

Quickly Terry glanced around the room debating who his next target would be when he saw a paranoid Draco Malfoy sneak into the lounge before scurrying off to a table near the back corner of the room.

He smiled as he realized he had an opportunity to pry information from Malfoy for Daphne.

Eager to get in the frightening witch's good graces, he reached out softly with his mind and eased his way in.

 _A small blonde-haired boy shatters a vase in a greenhouse._

" _Draco!" An attractive blonde-haired witch with high cheekbones and a haughty expression cries out, the smile belittling her somewhat stern demeanor._

Terry pushed forward, focusing on more recent memories.

Dozens of memories passed through his mind before one in particular caught his attention.

" _It is no longer a concern." A stern looking Lucius Malfoy said, a sense of finality dripping from voice._

" _Astoria trusts me." Draco pleaded, seemingly desperate to please his father._

 _The older man sighed, his features softening significantly. "The memories are no longer in their library."_

Before Terry could push further, a hastily placed set of occlumency shields made their presence known.

Deciding to pull away before he gets caught, Terry pushed the disturbing memory from his mind, deciding to focus on the attractive strawberry blonde headed his way, idly noticing that the piece of parchment he had set down moments before was now gone, replaced with a single gold galleon.

"Sue!" He exclaimed with exaggerated excitement.

"How's my favorite Hufflepuff?"

Susan Bones rolled her eyes in exasperation, ignoring his question. "Have you seen Harry? I have a message to pass to him from my aunt."

Terry kept his face neutral, but inwardly groaned; members of the Wizengamot had been using their kids as intermediaries to reach out to Harry since the latest session resumed after the first of the year.

"He and Daphne went to celebrate their victories." He said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

In reality the pair were likely in one of their secret rooms he wasn't supposed to know about, but Sue didn't need to know that.

The Hufflepuff smiled lightly, showing off a pretty pair of pearly whites.

"How do you think they will react, having to face each other in the finals?"

Privately Terry thought a moderated duel in a safe environment between the two would be a nice change of pace for the increasingly violent couple.

Throwing on a thoughtful look, Terry paused for a moment before responding.

"I'm not sure, they're both pretty competitive. I guess we'll find out in a month."

As good as she was, Daphne didn't stand a chance against Harry.

Sensing finality, Sue said goodbye before returning to her friends.

* * *

"...she's not been taking it well." The shrill voice of Tracy Davis stated loudly.

Pansy paused thoughtfully for once, carefully considering her words.

Deciding it must be safe to talk to in front of him, the larger girl started.

"Well how would _you_ react if it had been me who had been sacrificed?"

Tracy nodded her head sagely. "It's still hard to think about." The brunette trailed off at this, allowing for the conversation to go quiet for several seconds.

"I heard some of the younger girls say that her sister is even having _nightmares._ "

Pansy shuddered.

' _If Daphne hears them gossiping she'll rip them apart.'_ He thought, keeping his opinions to himself.

Before he could hear her response, he felt a warmth in his pocket.

Untangling his hand from Tracy's; he reached into his robes before politely excusing himself.

Finding a quiet place in the corner of the common room, Theo read his father's note, a look of consternation on his face.

He understood his dad's precarious position; caught between the dark lord and his duties as Minister of Magic leaving him with an impossible choice.

" _Please inform Lord Potter that…"_

He paused in shock as he read his father's missive.

' _They'll know.'_ He thought to himself. _'They'll know, and he'll kill us for it.'_

Coming to a decision, Theo erased his father's message.

Trying to forget what he had just read, Theo turned on his heal, hoping to find Tracy where he left her.

* * *

A noise startled him, pulling Corban from the stack of parchment lying on the desk in front of him.

Taking a look around, he frowned when he realized he had let time get away from him once again, leaving him empty in the bowels of the Ministry.

He groaned in frustration for allowing himself to get absorbed in his work, only to admonish himself for that thought a moment later.

For months he had been looking for an opportunity to impress his lord, only to come up short on ideas.

His older sister had advised him to show some initiative at work, encouraging him to study for the Hit Wizard field test.

" _Make yourself indispensable. The Dark Lord always needs skilled spies."_

Grabbing his cloak, Corban casually strolled through the halls towards the lift, thoughts of a steak and a pint flooding his mind before an idea sprung into his head.

An excited smile at his lips, he turned around, hurrying back towards the security archives.

The smell of stale parchment assaulted his senses as he stepped into the damp storage space that made up the ministries security archives.

Records of every ward the ministry had enacted lay sprawled out in the rows in front of him.

There was no guarantee the plan would work; some families could afford to hire private contractors.

Somehow, he doubted the family he was searching for could afford such niceties.

' _Greengrass… Greengrass… Greengrass…'_

Finding the surname printed elegantly on a large, pearl white file near the back of a cabinet, Corban Yaxley grinned victoriously, quickly removing a camera from his bag, he took pictures of all the documents before making his way from the archives, a proud smile on his face.

 **A/N:** Bit of an interlude. There's a lot of casual information in here, but a lot of great hints on what's to come as we enter the final "third" of the story as well.

As always, I will continue to update chapter progress in my profile weekly, but don't expect an update till late November.

 **A/N 2:** Thank you for all of the positive feedback with Chapter 16. I worked towards that chapter for months, and although I thought it was great, I was worried about its reception. The only negative feedback I've gotten is that people didn't like that Lily was killed. Just be grateful she was in the story at all, it wasn't planned. She was supposed to be the **_really_** obscure canon character that rides the boat with Harry, that's it; your positive reactions expanded her role. Originally Septima was going to switch out Harry's fork, and Harry (as the fourth champion) was going to disappear, I obviously went in a completely different direction.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** I'm only butchering JKRs world, not profiting off it.

"Son of a bitch." He mumbled loudly, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the empty hallway.

A quick flick of his wand disappeared the black coffee from the front of his white tee shirt.

' _I must have forgotten to enchant this one.'_

Another flick and his shirt was enchanted to be stain proof.

Reaching an impasse, Harry stopped to check his father's map.

He found a sense of comfort in his current predicament; late at night, under his family's unique invisibility cloak, utilizing his father's handcrafted map of the castle.

Over the last few months he had found himself staring at the map in amazement - hearing stories from Sirius about his father's prowess had been one thing but seeing it first hand was another.

Taking a glance around the map, his eyes paused on a twin pair of dots near the kitchens.

The sight of the Weasley twins on the map made him wonder what sort of trouble it had gotten the Marauders into back when they were in school.

' _Were they like the twins?'_ He had been disappointed when Remus had been unable to comment one way or another on that topic.

" _I don't know, are they?"_ The smartass response had been something he had come to expect from the werewolf, and he had made a note to bring the older man to the first board meeting of 'Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes," whenever that may be.

Did the Marauders have the map when they turned Flitwick's skin purple during third year?

What about during fifth year when the group of friends had charmed the chairs in the Slytherin common room to attack their occupants?

It was moments like these while he was breaking Hogwarts ever-expanding list of rules that he felt closer to James Potter than ever before.

' _Filch and the cat to the left. Headboy straight ahead.'_ He thought to himself as his eyes darted over the worn parchment. ' _To the right it is!'_

Hanging a right towards the staircase, Harry cast quick 'tempus'and smiled at his impeccable timing.

' _12:13. Right on time.'_

The staircase would be positioned to take him to the second floor at a quarter after the hour.

A flash of silver reflected off his invisibility cloak as he moved silently and unseen up the staircase, continuing at a brisk pace towards the second-floor girl's bathroom.

Checking the map to ensure that he was alone, Harry stepped into the girl's loo before dropping to a knee and hissing loudly at the plumbing.

Laboriously the pipes began to moan as they sprung to life, revealing a hidden entrance where the sink had been a moment earlier.

A quick wave of his wand cleared the newest layer of dust and grime off the narrow, damp staircase while a second wave brought the tiny passage to life with a dim light.

He quickly stepped into the musty passage, following the descending stairs till the path widened where he was met with a familiar brick wall.

Having disabled the now-decipherable ward set protecting the brick wall, Harry paused, shutting his eyes briefly, visualizing his next steps.

Taking a deep breath, he calmly cast the necessary diagnostics, carefully removing the illusions.

As always, Harry was impressed despite himself as the brick turned to a textured marble.

Set in the middle of the marble wall was a newly minted inscription:

 _Kisipn wdvkrinu cd Rnwceikaf! Mkipcirc du cei Edmtpkcr udvfgikr!_

Upon unlocking the initial set of wards on the seemingly-brick wall, he and Daphne had watched as their elation turned to frustration when the brick melted away to reveal not a passageway like they'd hoped, but the smooth marble, and jumbled set of letters now in front of him.

Their early morning discovery had stumped them for the better part of three months.

Until about an hour ago.

It had been an unrelated observation made by Daphne back in February that had ultimately led him to the answer.

" _It's incredible how similar you and Riddle are."_

He had feebly fought her observation - uncomfortable with hearing his own thoughts verbalized back to him.

The similarities went beyond both being orphans, prodigies, and parseltongues, and into the more mundane.

School subjects, their discovery of magic, even their childhood experiences shared a degree of similarity.

In his youth a small, ostracized Tom Riddle would run the half kilometer from the orphanage to a park down the road to avoid bullies. Spending hours climbing trees to avoid the cruelty of the other children, using the years before Hogwarts to stew in his hatred and hone his parseltongue abilities.

As a kid Harry also used to run from bullies to take solace in the park down the road, using the foliage as cover from his cousins little gang.

Both had, at one point or another, longed for the acceptance of others, stepping outside of their comfort zones in an attempt to make friends.

For Riddle that had meant teaching Mary Lou to read, only for her to abandon him when the other orphans mocked her.

Harry had taken up footy, becoming better than average until he made the mistake of outclassing his cousin, who in turn bullied those who would pick Harry for their side.

But most importantly, at least in this case, both had taken an interest in literature.

"Great Expectations," "Moby Dick," and "The Iliad" had all kept a young Tom Riddle occupied throughout his days at Wool's Orphanage; but it was a fifteen-year-old Tom Riddle's tongue-in-cheek comment about murdering his father that had caught his attention.

" _He had once been wealthy; but a series of misfortunes had reduced him to want."_

The quote, from Poe's "The Gold Bug" to describe the main character had given him the idea to investigate the possibility that the most feared dark wizard in a millennium - a pureblood supremacist - was using a muggle cipher to hide the secrets of another pureblood supremacist.

That realization forced him to research the topic, leading him to eventually figure out what needed to be done.

' _Speak to me Slytherin! Greatest of the Hogwarts founders!'_

Harry grinned in triumph as he hissed Voldemort's grandiose pass phrase, waiting with barely contained giddiness as the marble wall slowly began to disappear, leaving a small passageway in its place.

He felt excitement as he passed through where the wall had been, pleased to have solved Tom Riddle's puzzle at long last.

' _Daphne will be pissed I did it without her!'_ He thought with a grin. The girl hated when a puzzle she had been working on was solved by somebody else.

The path in front of him widened considerably as he walked and was paved in the same elegant marble as the second barrier. While the tunnel in this part of the castle appeared to be much better contained, with less cracks and leaks than where he had come from.

' _Her fault for spending the night with Astoria.'_

Though even as he thought it, he knew that wasn't true. If it had been Daphne suffering from nightmares, he would do anything in his power to comfort her, even if it meant delaying his exploration of the mythical chamber.

As he descended down a winding staircase, a cold feeling of despair began to form in the pit of his stomach.

' _This place has been sealed off for a reason.'_

' _Coming here alone was a mistake.'_

' _This sort of recklessness got Sirius killed.'_

The last thought made him stop in his tracks as he fought to regain control of his mind.

' _Psychological wards.'_ He thought as he doubled down on his occlumency, pushing the growing anxiety from his mind.

' _I must be getting close!'_

As he used his occlumency to fight the anxiety, the initial feeling of angst was replaced by the pain of knives stabbing through his flesh, causing him to let out a horrific scream as he clutched at his abdomen, eager to prevent his organs from spilling out onto the marble floor.

Each step tore a new hole in his flesh, and soon enough he found himself dropping to his knees as he howled in pain as he searched in vain for the warm sensation of blood that must be drenching his shirt.

' _It's all in your head.'_ He reminded himself as he fought the pain to regain his focus.

Chancing a glance down he saw his white shirt un-ripped, still in near-perfect condition.

' _It's all in my head.'_ He told himself again.

With that in mind, he pushed forward in agonizing pain, making his way towards the wide chamber at the end of the hall, only to be stopped in his tracks, left with a decision.

Harry glanced in frustration at the three-separate tunnel

A moment later a kaleidoscope of color erupted from his wand, dancing in the dim torchlight.

What he saw made him growl in frustration.

More wards.

A few more spells confirmed that these wards were different from the set protecting the marble wall.

With a defeated sigh, he turned around, deciding to call it a night.

* * *

She let out a frustrated growl as her elbow slipped into her salad.

Pushing her half-eaten lunch to the side, the fourth year Slytherin turned her attention back to the essay in front of her.

' _What adjustments will I have to make to my telescope to see the intersection of Ganymede and Callisto?'_

Daphne thought hard, trying to remember the intricacies of calibrating her stupid telescope.

She _hated_ astronomy. The class failed to hold her interest, and once a week it disrupted her sleep schedule - effectively ruining her Thursday mornings.

The subject was primarily used as a resource in potions and Herbology to understand the properties and growing cycles, of certain plants. The alignment of moons and stars, however, had been used by the quacks who had studied divination for centuries, a load of rubbish, if you asked her.

But since Dumbledore found that branch of magic to be _credible,_ the class had taken to studying the effect astronomy had on divination as well.

' _Harry's technically on the Board of Governors, maybe he can have astronomy removed from the curriculum?'_ She thought, a sad smile pulling on her lips.

Astronomy represented the string that tied together three subjects she had next to no interest in.

While potions was useful, and she knew the importance plants played in their economy, that didn't mean she found the subjects any more fascinating.

" _Center the secondary mirror on the axis of the focuser drawtube."_

Lily's patient voice played out enthusiastically in her mind as she explained her passion to Daphne.

" _Next, it is important to aim the eyepiece at the center of the primary mirror before centering your primary mirror's sweet spot in the eyepiece's field of view."_

She felt a set of tears begin to form in her eyes as she jotted down the steps laid out in her mind by her late friend.

Perhaps what she hated most about astronomy wasn't the late nights, or the pointless lessons - but the hours she spent debating the subjects merits with the black-haired witch - debates she would never again have.

It was that reality, the realization that Lily Moon would never make a cheesy remark about her name and its relation to her favorite subject ever again, that made her hate the night sky.

The hierarchical nature of society meant that although her family had a seat on the Wizengamot, they never received the fawning attention that surnames like Black, Bones, Longbottom, Malfoy, and Nott commanded. While her father's relative lack of ambition meant that the Greengrass family often found themselves without invitations to the social gatherings that littered the calendars of their peers.

Except for Astoria, she had grown up without friends.

That changed when she met Lily outside Flourish and Blotts before their first year of Hogwarts, for the first time she had known what it was like to be cared about by someone other than her family.

The smell of lemon and the sound of shuffling caused Daphne to hold up her index finger, fending off the conversation she knew she was about to have before it could even begin.

"Hey Daph."

Astoria's soft voice called out, cutting through the noise of the great hall like a knife through butter the second her quill stopped moving.

Looking up she took in her sisters-tired eyes, her face showing the hint of something foreign.

Reaching out with legilimency, she felt Astoria lower her occlumency shields.

 _Fear._ Her sister was overrun with it. It was seeping out of her pores like oil, Astoria's mediocre grasp of occlumency was the only thing saving her from broadcasting her emotions to Dumbledore.

' _Or Snape.'_

Swiftly packing her things, Daphne silently grabbed Astoria's hand, leading her past the throngs of students and into the empty hallways.

"DAPHNE SLOW DOWN!" Astoria shouted as she stumbled over her feet in an effort to keep up with her older sister.

Daphne ignored her, leading her silently through a myriad of passages before doubling back and hanging a left past Dumbledore's old transfiguration classroom and down the corridor towards her and Harry's room.

Astoria tensed in fright as they approached.

"Daphne, I don't want -"

"Shut up and give me your palm." She said, grabbing at her little sisters hand as she shoved her own through the wall.

Grabbing the sheath behind the illusion, the blonde girl removed the silver knife before slicing deeply into her sister's palm a second later.

"You bitch!" The younger girl roared, a pained expression on her pretty face.

Daphne turned towards the keystone, obscuring her grin from view as she wiped Astoria's blood across the rune set.

The carvings glowed a light orange, accepting her sister's blood, and allowing Astoria safe passage.

"So, this is where you and Harry disappear to?" The younger girl asked as she held her hand out towards her.

She noticed her sister watch enviously as she silently healed her wound, adding in a slight numbing charm for her comfort.

Astoria may have had the world wrapped around her finger. The sweet, selfless girl that her year mates gravitated towards.

The future queen of the Malfoy clan.

That thought disgusted her; _'over my dead body.'_

Lily had once compared Astoria favorably to a dog; smart, loyal, attractive, and eager to please.

" _The only similarity Astoria has to a dog is that they both can be bitches."_ She had said at the time.

Lily's face came alight with laughter at her comment.

Daphne, however, knew that behind those hazel eyes was a child who wished she could cast a stunner without exhausting herself.

She responded to her sister's question with an ambiguous hum as she watched Astoria's eyes travel over the room.

Astoria's shtick had made Daphne look like Bellatrix Lestrange, by comparison. When given the choice between the two sisters, people tended to gravitate towards the younger girl.

All except for Harry.

Their room was a living monument to their journey through magic.

The basic bookshelf and table near the door were the first pieces of furniture they ever created.

The knick-knacks on the shelves represented Harry's earliest attempts at cursing and enchanting, while the locked wardrobe in the corner contained her first attempts at conjuration.

Astoria's eyes landed on the animated stool walking around the front of the room in a menacing manner, lunging at various shelves but never straying more than a few meters from the corner.

"What the hell is that?" Astoria asked, a confused curiosity seeping out of her voice.

" _Then the chair bit Snape!_ _I'll never forget that, Harry. Minny wanted to be mad, but your father had just broken a fundamental law of transfiguration, she had no choice but to be impressed!"_

"Just an experiment, Stori."

Grabbing her sisters pale hand and dragging her towards the expanded section of the room, she felt her sister tense once more as they passed through the wall and into her and Harry's more private area.

Her sister gasped as she eyed Harry's desk.

"Did he create that?"

Astoria didn't try and contain her envy as she allowed her fingers to glide across the smooth granite surface.

The oversized desk with a large headboard was nigh-near indestructible, and more grandiose than practical.

The whole thing was completely unnecessary, if you asked her.

"Of course, he did." She stated proudly.

The pair went silent as Daphne allowed her sister to inspect her own, more practical mahogany desk before turning her attention to the rest of the room.

She gave her sister a few minutes of peace, waiting for Astoria's back to be turned towards her before deftly casting a calming charm on the brunette.

"What's wrong, Stori?" She asked, a tinge of concern infiltrating her soft voice.

Taking a seat on the chair across from her, her sister briefly closed her eyes.

"I think I've been memory charmed."

Daphne nodded her head calmly, doing her best to contain her inner panic.

' _The nightmares.'_

"Why do you say that?"

"The nightmares." Astoria responded instantaneously. "They're coming into focus."

The recurring dream had started as a hodgepodge of pictures and sounds that, over time, had managed to sort themselves out - although they had remained blurry.

"Do you know what happened?"

"I'm not sure." Her sister's voice quivered nervously. "But Lily was there."

At the mention of her late friend Daphne rested her elbows on her thighs, leaning in in anticipation.

' _What did she see?'_

"What other details do you remember?"

A contemplative look fell over Astoria's pretty face.

"Nothing."

' _A hint of panic in her voice that time.'_

Daphne fought the urge to further pester her sister with questions before reaching into her desk and pulling out a vial she had gotten off of Boot, passing it over to the third year.

"Dreamless Sleep potion."

Astoria gave her a grateful smile.

"Let's get you back to the common room." She said immediately, suddenly eager to get back to her dorm.

' _I have a letter to write.'_

* * *

"Professor!"

He asked politely, raising his voice only slightly to gain the attention of the friendly witch.

Septima Vector's dark hazel eyes met his own emerald, a kind smile on her face.

"Yes Harry?" She answered kindly, curiosity laced her voice as the fifth year Ravenclaw and Slytherin class emptied her inviting classroom.

Being left alone with his godfather's widowed fiancée always left him feeling a bit awkward, no matter how supportive Professor Vector had been.

He had hoped to avoid this, but he found himself stumped.

"I'm having problems with power absorption wards."

To his surprise, Professor Vector nodded her head sharply, not looking the least bit surprised.

"Would you mind silencing the room for us, Harry?"

He smiled before flicking his wand, a soft buzzing hummed along in the background, drowning out their voices to anyone who may be listening.

His professor gave him a strange look.

"Why this spell, Harry?"

He shrugged. "Sirius taught it to me."

She offered him a sad smile.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I never got to say that."

He gave her a confused smile. "It wasn't your fault, professor."

She offered him an amused look; "no, I don't suppose it was. But after everyone you've lost, to have to lose both Sirius _and_ Lily in only a few months? I'm sorry that you've had to go through so much."

Her voice trailed off and she glanced away for a moment before looking him in the eyes.

"If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm her for you."

And she would be. He could hear the reassuring resilience in her voice.

"Please Harry, when we're in private it's still Septima, how many times do I have to tell you that?"

The faux sternness in her voice made him smile.

"How can I help you?"

Bill's hints at yule had set him on the right path towards working out the older man's crowning achievement, but he had found himself at an impasse over the last month, and with Bill unavailable he had turned to the brilliant witch in front of him.

"Well..."

This is where he struggled. He didn't know where he was going wrong. The rune set was correct, and he had improved his carving immensely, there was no reason the wards shouldn't act properly.

In his search for a memorable warding thesis, Bill Weasley had went looking for inspiration in the muggle world, finding it in electricity.

Unable to find a set of runes capable of accomplishing his goal, he had first attempted to modify a strong set of runes meant to power the strength of wards, before realizing the obvious - the wards he would need needed to be able to _absorb_ and not just _emit_ the magic around them in order to continuously power the affected area.

The red-head had spent years tinkering before coming up with the proper formula.

Bill's set of wards, once officially trademarked, would bring the wizarding world out of the dark ages and begin to bridge the technological gap between wizards and muggles.

Thus far, Harry's wards could only absorb the magic, he had yet to crack the secret to releasing that magic steadily and on command.

In his frustration he thrust his notes into her outstretched hands.

Septima grabbed the parchment before returning to her desk and sitting down.

Putting on a pair of thin-framed reading glasses, he allowed his professor to read in silence for several minutes before an amused smile played at her lips.

Letting out an annoyed grunt, he made to interrupt her; "what is it?"

She set the notes down. "Your problem isn't with the runes, or the ward set as they are currently diagramed, your problem is in your arithmancy. "

The comment left him agape. He hadn't even considered that could be an issue, arithmancy had next to no use in wards.

"What?"

It was also his poorest subject.

"Research Tobias Gruber and his theory on storing magic. I think you'll solve your puzzle."

He smiled in firm resolution as she stood up, handing him back his notes before eyeing him seriously.

"You don't look well, Harry, you need more sleep."

He was touched, if he was being honest with himself. There was no reason for her to be concerned for him, not anymore.

"I sleep plenty." He snapped. It was true, six hours a night was plenty.

His annoyed tone didn't seem to bother her.

"You look tired. Maybe you should stop spending your nights exploring the castle?" She said a tinge of humor in her voice.

"Yeah, maybe." He replied evasively, a forced smile in his voice.

He left the classroom a few minutes later, slightly confused.

' _Is she following me?'_

* * *

Silently he passed the man a bag of galleons in exchange for the manila folder that was now secured in his right-breast pocket.

Walking at an appropriate pace towards the apparition point of Diagon Alley, Lucius Malfoy wore the slightest grin on his regal face as he silently disappeared.

Reappearing seconds later in the patriarch study at Malfoy Manor, Lucius removed the manila folder from his overcoat before taking a seat at his desk.

Reaching into the uppermost compartment to his left, he removed a matching folder he had retrieved from Walden regarding the Dark Lord's inventory during the spring of 1975.

There hadn't been a single dragon lung in their stores.

If Bellatrix wasn't signing off on a dragon's lung for their lord, then there were only two options.

Flipping to March of 1975 he searched for several minutes, a frown forming on his face.

' _The Ministry had no record of a dragon's lung being imported from Romania in their supplies.'_

A dragon's lung was a rare, if not highly sought after, potions ingredient used primarily in advanced strengthening potions.

The type used in his late father's regiment to treat his creeping Emerson's.

' _If Bellatrix wasn't importing the lung for their lord or the ministry, why did she need it?'_

Ophelia would have known.

He needed to speak to Alfred.

* * *

He felt a large mass run into him, causing him to take a step back involuntarily.

"Excuse me!" The mousy looking first year nearly shouted before running off after his friends, completely forgetting where he was.

Harry offered him an annoyed scowl, suddenly remembering why he had stopped coming to the crowded library during normal hours.

Taking a quick glance down at the map, Harry found his target wandering near the advanced charms section on the second floor.

Confidently walking towards one of the spiral staircases towards the back of the room, he idly noticed the nervous looks his classmates shot each other at the sight of him as they presented Harry with an uninhibited path to his destination.

The loud whispers and uncomfortable looks would have bothered him, once upon a time.

Years of their gossip, doubt, and fear, however, had ebbed his desire to win a popularity contest.

Whether his classmates were intimidated by his power, or feared his prowess did not matter to him, not anymore.

Harry paused at the top of the staircase for a brief moment to take in the biggest library in the British Isles.

He watched as throngs of students below him pushed their way through the crowded shelves, while others milled about, looking for an open chair or table.

Turning around, Harry walked comfortably across the spacious second floor; dodging the odd seventh year, weaving between nearly empty tables on his way over to the advanced charms section.

He was walking for nearly a minute before he felt his mind begin to wander and his dopamine levels begin to rise.

Clamping down on his occlumency, he saw the reason for his condition staring intently at a shelf of books several meters ahead of him.

Harry took a minute to admire the attractive witch as she allowed her fingers to roam over the spines of various books, debating internally which would best suit her purposes.

Unlike her younger sister, who paired her beauty with a pretty laugh and charming smile, Fleur had discovered her passion, and spent her time pursuing it relentlessly.

She reminded him of Daphne.

"Ms. Delacour!" He said after some time, chastising himself for getting lost in his thoughts.

His voice was barely above a whisper, but covered the distance between them, grabbing the older witch's attention instantaneously.

The Beauxbatons champion looked up, an annoyed look marring her pretty features as she glanced around for the source of the interruption.

Happy that he hadn't been caught staring, he waited nervously for her to notice him.

Intense stormy blue eyes met his a moment later before her annoyed look transformed to one of interest as she signaled him over.

Charms, more specifically complex wide-area enchantments and what they all entailed, that was the French witch's niche.

Enchantments designed to prevent structural damage in housing, protect a room or curse intruders all fell under her purview. But it was her ability to make those enchantments work properly within a particular set of wards, or in a specific environment that had set the part-veela on a path towards at least two masteries, and, he suspected, had laid the foundation for her to be chosen as her schools champion.

"Lord Potter." She said formally, the slightest hint of a French accent in her voice as she curtsied politely.

He hadn't had an appropriate reason to speak with Gabrielle's sister yet, but the older girls infatuation with Septima Vector, and her own expertise in charms had given him a reason to seek out the French champion.

"Heiress Delacour."

She offered him a radiant smile, her full lips parting to show off a perfect set of white teeth.

"Let's dispense with formalities, Harry. In private, please call me Fleur."

She took a second to take him in before glancing back at the bookshelf.

He smiled, taking the older girls hint he cast a quick privacy charm.

"I was hoping you could tell me about the 'obliviation' charm."

He felt the older girl hesitate.

He didn't blame her - the memory was a fickle thing, more than a few wizards had ruined lives in their pursuit of knowledge.

The girl eyed him suspiciously. "Speaking specifics about that charm without ministry approval is against _your_ country's laws."

' _Don't I know it.'_

He had hit a wall while trying to research memory charms. Outside of a description of the spells effects and the illegality of practicing it, there was nary a mention of them at Hogwarts.

' _If only I could sneak away to Grimmauld Place.'_

The gloom London townhome was a shrine to forbidden knowledge, he had no doubt that fifteen minutes roaming those shelves and he would find what he was looking for.

He nodded his head sagely. "My question has more to do with detection. How can one detect if they have been memory charmed?"

Fleur seemed to consider him for a moment.

"Time is the best indicator." She began, seeming to have reached some sort of conclusion.

"Most who cast the charm lack the touch, focus, and time to splice and replace a moment in someone else's mind, that's why sixty percent of memory charms fail within the first thirty days."

Fleur's expression, and tone seemed to take an uptick at her students focus, and she continued her lecture with a soft smile on her beautiful face.

"The second, and most common form of detection for a properly cast obliviation is discovery by a skilled mind healer trained to look for such discrepancies, it's for this reason that most ministry's require their employees to visit one quarterly."

A quick scowl flashed across his face as he worked to get his occlumency under control.

The pretty witch cocked her head to the side slightly, her silver hair reflecting off the light of the library, giving her an almost angelic appearance.

"Is that what happened to you, 'Arry?"

He frowned at the exaggeration of her accent.

"No." He said a bit too quickly. "To a friend towards the end of their life."

A look of comprehension came across her face.

"Lord Black, then?" She said matter-of-factly. "He was your godfather, no?"

He offered her a crooked grin, finding her bluntness refreshing - not many people had the nerve to talk to him like this.

"Yes." He answered almost immediately.

She nodded her head; "how long did the charm last before detection?"

He found his current situation so odd that before he had time to stop himself, Harry was answering the stranger's question.

"About a year and a half." He said. "Does that tell you anything about the caster?"

The blonde girl rubbed her chin in thought, a look of concentration on her face.

"I don't think so." She started. "Just that whoever cast the spell wasn't an obliviator."

The pair fell into a brief, comfortable silence as Fleur continued to browse the books around her, stopping momentarily to examine the spine of an old, maroon book.

"What about during dreams?"

Fleur turned her attention back towards him, her expression changing to a slightly uncomfortable look.

"I understand how personal this topic can be." She said gently, placing her arm lightly on his forearm. "But to answer your question, I need more information."

He thought quietly for a minute, debating what he could and could not tell this stranger.

"The nightmares."

He said, being particularly ambiguous as he inflicted a tremor of fear into his voice.

"I'm no longer certain that they are nightmares. It feels as though I'm walking out of a fog, and things are slowly starting to clear up." He said, repeating Astoria's own words to him from the previous night.

If Fleur saw through his tactics, she didn't comment on it.

"It's possible that a rushed obliviation is unraveling."

She tapped her fingers on the spine of the maroon book she was now holding, formulating her next words carefully.

"It is probable that given enough time, this person will be able to recall some of the incident. However, if this was me, I would see a mind healer as soon as possible to work out the details."

"How long does it take to recover a memory?" He asked eagerly, hoping to find an end to Astoria's ordeal as soon as possible.

"If the memory can be recovered?" She corrected. "It can take months."

As he turned to walk away, the intimidating girl stopped him.

"Your godfather. What were they able to determine about the obliviation?"

Before he could stop himself, Harry found himself answering her question.

"Only that it happened sometime during the summer of 1993."

* * *

He stood perfectly still, his brown eyes searching the atrium of the small home as he waited for the elf to return with its master.

Voldemort didn't have to wait long, feeling the creature's latent magic as it rounded the corner, returning with a tall, thin man and his short wife.

"Roger!" He greeted, his steady voice maintaining a gracious tone before he turned his attention to the troll-like creature in front of him.

"Marlene!" He stated, allowing Tom Riddle's calm, confident charisma to seep into his voice as he dipped his head slightly in a respectful bow. "Thank you for inviting me to your beautiful home."

He ignored the not-so-subtle look the dimwitted woman shot her husband.

His words were misleading, and all three of them knew it - the small townhome on the newer west-end of Whisper Alley was cramped and dumpy on the inside, and he hadn't been invited so much as demanded an audience.

She offered him a nervous smile, receiving an encouraging nod from her husband before addressing him directly.

"Thank you for gracing us with your presence." She got out before her eyes widened slightly; "my lord." She added quickly.

In his younger years he had dreaded these little recruiting visits as he tried to curry favor with the general public, often losing his temper and murdering his targets in anger.

As he'd aged, however, he had come to appreciate the different challenge each situation presented.

He had spent months researching possible moles within the Department of Mysteries before ultimately settling on Augustus Rookwood, earning his devotion by promising him the ability to carry out his experiments in peace and without judgement.

Tobias Selwyn had found himself in an unfortunate situation, one his wealth couldn't buy him out of when Cornelius Fudge's investigation into the disappearance of Cassandra Prewitt led to his doors. Voldemort had been able to forgive where the ministry couldn't, overlooking the murder of a magical child and providing protection for Selwyn in exchange for the monetary resources of the unpleasant man.

The Edgecombe's presented a different sort of challenge, one that put Voldemort outside of his comfort zone.

"Lucius had mentioned to me that Minister Nott ignored your threat assessment for the Wizengamot."

Barely contained rage flashed across Marlene Edgecombe's face, causing her husband to place a calming arm on her forearm.

"The minister is a fool." She spat.

Internally he smiled.

Voldemort schooled his handsome features into a charming smile, causing the dumpy woman to lean closer towards him as she waited for his response to her idiotic proclamation.

The Edgecombe family was neither rich, nor powerful, and as such they had next to nothing of value to provide him.

"I had a chance to review your plans, personally." He stated, his voice carrying a degree of sympathy to it.

A self-important smile came across Marlene Edgecombe's face.

What Marlene, and by extension Roger Edgecombe craved was recognition. In the matriarch's mind, she was every bit the woman Amelia Bones was.

"I think Minister Fudge has badly miscalculated the vulnerabilities at the west entrance of the chamber."

It was true; when he had been presented with options his eyes had immediately gravitated towards the furthest entrance from the street, and therefore the entrance that had the least amount of security.

He didn't need legilimency to see that Roger was uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.

Voldemort suppressed the rising urge to kill the man and continue the conversation alone with his wife.

' _Later.'_ It wouldn't do him any good to lose the cooperation of the wife, not when he was this close.

"Marlene - "he started, pausing briefly after he addressed her personally, causing her to smile softly, "you should be recognized for the work you've done to try and protect this country."

The small woman nodded enthusiastically.

"Lord Voldemort can help you get the recognition you deserve."

* * *

He felt a tug on his hand as his girlfriend directed him towards their secluded spot on the south side of the lake before he joined her on the soft ground, frowning as he felt the early-morning dew seep through the seat of his robes.

Daphne laughed, causing her lips to curl into a wide smile, the morning sun reflecting off her high cheekbones.

"It's the little things, Harry. You always seem to forget them."

Instead of responding, he leaned in, planting a soft kiss on her lips, his mind considering her words.

The blonde had a point - whether it was forgetting to waterproof his robes, stain proof a shirt, or failing to notice a friend under the imperius curse; he had found, to his depression that the details had become his kryptonite.

Turning away from Daphne, he gave the lake a haunted look as he opened up his copy of the newspaper, thinking about the friends he had lost due to his incompetence.

' _Is that how I'll lose Daphne?'_

A half-dozen horrific scenarios played themselves on repeat in his mind, outlining the dozens of ways his enemies could use her against him.

Harry shook the thoughts from his mind, returning his focus to the girl in front of him.

"Someone's got to tackle the important things." He pontificated, inserting some haughtiness into his voice. "I'll leave the rest to you peasants."

The musical nature of Daphne's laugh caused him to smile before he joined her in a fit of giggles.

She smiled viciously. "I hope you're thinking that way tomorrow, I'll beat you for sure!"

The last weekend in May brought the dueling championships, and, as expected the Hogwarts contingent would win the fourth-year tournament, regardless of whomever ended up winning the actual duel.

The pair sat silently for several minutes; Daphne's head in his lap as the great squid danced around the calm lake.

" _Bulgaria, France Condemn Britain Over Lestrange!"_

' _Better not let Daphne see this.'_ He thought, closing his copy of the 'Daily Prophet.'

"I think I'm going to go." He stated softly, causing Daphne to turn around and look at him.

"Good." She responded definitively before her face lost a bit of confidence and her voice staggered slightly. "You should be there, you need to be visible."

With his ascension as both Lord Potter _and_ Lord Black the Prophet had taken to speculating about his social circle, particularly the motivations surrounding the heiress from a forgotten member of the Sacred 28.

More recently, however, Rita Skeeter had publicly questioned his commitment to his ancestral duties; deriding him for sending a metamorphmagus who had been labeled a liar, and a werewolf to act in his steed.

"I'm not allowed to actually vote." He said halfheartedly, repeating the talking points he had provided the Prophet with back in March.

And he wasn't; the rules of the Wizengamot expressly stated that a voting member of the _august_ body must be of age in order to cast a binding vote.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Then you need to be seen _directing_ others on how to vote."

While he couldn't vote, he was allowed to speak on the floor of the Wizengamot, something he had yet to do.

Politics, procedures, and recruiting others to his point of view all made him want to kill someone.

He smiled; "at the very least I'll _direct_ one other vote."

His girlfriend offered him another laugh before a smile fell across her face and she reached into her bag.

"That reminds me." She said, handing him a piece of parchment, the wax seal having already been broken.

He raised an eyebrow in her direction, causing her to blush. "It's just an invitation to Astoria's birthday party."

"I'll be there."

' _Especially with Malfoy hanging around.'_

"And I've got the perfect gift for her." He said, offering her a mischievous smile.

Daphne groaned. "She doesn't need any more of those fireworks, Harry. I don't trust them."

Whether she was referring to the twins, or their products he didn't know.

"It's important that I support businesses I have an interest in, Daphne." He said, a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his lips. "Besides, investing in them was your idea."

She groaned again, as he recalled her urging him to have a conversation with Terry about the need to diversify his portfolio.

"You know damn well that wasn't what I had in mind! I meant making partnerships with other families, not supporting a pair of classmates!"

He just shrugged. "One thing at a time, Daphne." He smiled, lightly chiding her for her grandiose plans for his future. With a wave of his wand his robes elongated; becoming a garish neon pink while he felt a long white beard begin to grow off his chin; before loudly exclaiming, in his best impression of Dumbledore; "I have a dark lord to defeat, first!"

* * *

"The amount of work Mr. Potter and Ms. Greengrass have put into their dueling has been very impressive."

"Yes, it is." Septima agreed readily, offering the head of Hufflepuff a quick glance and a kind smile.

"The pair have quite the work ethic."

Pomona began to say something before letting the conversation drop and turning her attention back to the impending duel.

She felt herself frown at the older woman's antics, having no patience for the herbology professor's indecision.

Behind closed doors the Hogwarts staff had been whispering about Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass with increasing regularity of late, and for the last week Pomona had been dying to ask her about just how advanced _her_ star pupil was.

She supposed it was the impropriety of such a question that held the dumpy woman back; despite Corbans fondness for the lady, the two of them just didn't have that type of relationship.

Deciding to throw the witch a bone, she found herself offering the old gossip her own opinion.

"I have no doubt that if he had had the desire to compete, Harry would have won the main competition."

If she was being honest with herself, she didn't think Harry would have had to put in that much effort in order to outpace Fleur. The girl was smart; prodigious in charms and above average in runes, but lacked the raw ambition that Harry attacked every subject with.

She didn't blame the French witch for that – few lacked the focus to master multiple branches of unrelated fields of magic.

Involuntarily her eyes drifted over towards the Beauxbatons contingent, catching the Delacour sisters - both of them - giving the soon-to-begin duel their unfettered attention.

' _Something's changed.'_ She realized instantaneously.

Fleur didn't react that way to strangers. The veela was cold and aloof to those she knew, and her and Harry were strangers.

' _That look says otherwise.'_ She told herself.

Frowning, the deputy headmistress made a mental note reminding herself to research where the two may have crossed paths.

' _Fleur and I should do dinner soon as well.'_

With the tournament coming to an end in a week, she would need to do something to keep the girls attention.

"You can't truly mean that, Septima."

The other professor's voice was filled with disbelief and a tinge of admonishment, causing her to nearly lose her temper.

' _He'd do a hell of a lot better than that embarrassment Diggory.'_

Turning to face the older woman, Septima smiled internally as her face morphed into one of the condescending poses perfected by Narcissa Malfoy.

"I should know, Pomona. I've examined him personally in all his core subjects as well as ancient runes and warding; he does things with a wand I've never seen before."

Septima turned her attention back to the fight right as it was beginning, using the action to cover her smile, she could almost feel the amount of effort it was taking the elderly woman not to pry further.

Greengrass opened with three organ rupturing curses right as the ref began the fight, causing those in the crowd that recognized the spell to gasp as Harry deftly dodged the pale pink streams of light, his own wand already in motion, emitting a pair of high-arching boomerangs back at the Slytherin girl.

Greengrass appeared to smile as she gracefully avoided her boyfriend's salvo, returning fire at a rapid pace.

' _She's trying to overwhelm him.'_

The blonde witch, a budding force in her own right, lacked the power and creativity to win a prolonged duel with Harry Potter.

She chanced a glance at the younger Greengrass sister reacting animatedly with every spell as she clung to the Malfoy brat.

" _There can be no loose ends."_

Bella's words rang out clear as day in her head as her mind drifted to the manila folder locked in her personal chambers.

' _Sorry sweetheart.'_ She thought as a horrified gasp from the crowd drew her attention back to the duel unfolding in front of her.

Harry's jaw was clearly broken as a strand of thick, bloody spit dripped out the side of his mouth, but it was the terrified scream of Greengrass, not Harry's appearance, that had enraptured the crowd.

For a brief moment Greengrass went quiet and the crowd held its collective breath, entranced by what was unfolding in front of them.

Septima turned her attention to Harry, who wore a curious expression on his face, his wand still pointing loosely at his girlfriend as she continued to fight the effects of the unknown spell.

Then Greengrass _laughed_ hysterically before returning fire with a barrage of questionable pain spells forcing a crippled Harry to bat them away with more effort than she had expected.

Sloppy spell work gave Harry the opening he needed as he waved his wand, ending with a sharp diagonal slash downward from left to right.

For a brief moment nothing happened, and she could almost _feel_ Pomona's smug expression from next to her.

' _You have no idea what you're smirking about, you stupid hag.'_

She felt the magic a moment before she saw its effects, causing her to smile.

Greengrass didn't smile as her eyes widened before she _dove_ out of the duelers circle right as a dark purple bolt of lightning scorched the ground, she had been standing on a second before.

The hall was silent in the moments afterwards as Greengrass got to her feet.

Her footsteps echoed around the silent hall as a satisfied smirk rested on her dry lips.

She and Harry stared at each other for a long moment, before Greengrass curtseyed deeply towards her opponent, completely ignoring the crowd that was beginning to stir around her.

A large smile formed on Septima's face as she caught the horrified look on Sprouts face.

' _Cedric will never be able to do that.'_

* * *

He let a serene smile grace his features as he listened to the squat, elderly Herbologist give her end of term report.

Grey-silver hair flapped about wildly as Pomona regaled him with an update on the 'Moly's' that had bloomed in the third greenhouse.

"You have to be careful when handling them, Albus, the secret, of course…" the head of Hufflepuff added, leaning in ever-so-slightly as if divulging to him something grand.

' _Is to grab the stem by the thorns…'_ He thought to himself, reciting the enthusiastic witch's annual speech on the Moly.

"...the thorns, you see don't emit that noxious puss." Pomona concluded, finishing his internal dialogue.

Sensing an opening, Albus began to rummage around in his large oak desk, searching for the ever-present bottle towards the back corner of his uppermost drawer.

Grasping the dusty bottle, he ignored the gasp of his longest-tenured professor as he quickly conjured two small glasses before filling them with the amber liquid and passing one her way.

A sly smile spread across the small woman's face, and he knew that by the end of the day the fact that he kept a bottle of firewhiskey in his desk would be common knowledge among the staff.

"Really Albus! In your desk? During school hours?" The faux admonishment in her voice reminded him of his old friend, and how they'd spend hours alone in this office at the end of each term, talking about nothing in particular.

"School is only in session for a few more minutes, Pomona." He said with a smile.

Looking back, those rare moments were how he'd remember his old confidant and served as a sad reminder that he would need to find a replacement for Minerva.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Albus smiled; "after my defeat of Grindelwald I spent several months tending my brother's bar." He said in way of explanation.

Sometimes he yearned for those times when his greatest worry was whether or not the glasses behind the bar were clean.

"A toast." He quickly added as he pushed those thoughts aside. "To Cedric Diggory! Who represented his house, school, and family with honor!"

Pomona's smile seemed slightly forced as she downed the harsh liquid in one go.

"While I am certainly proud of my badger, I wish he could have done better."

He too had had higher expectations for the tournament, not that he would air them now.

"Second place is nothing to be ashamed of, Pomona. Mr. Diggory's efforts during the third task provided a serious challenge for Ms. Delacour."

The herbology professor didn't appear to hear him as she clutched her now empty glass tightly in her small, calloused hands as she stared at a blank spot on the wall behind him.

"Septima made an interesting comment during the duel between Mr. Potter and Ms. Greengrass."

Albus could hear the disappointment in her voice as she mentioned the controversial duel that had set off a frenzy in their news-starved society.

"What did she have to say?" His voice genuinely curious as he resisted the urge to simply steal the thought from her mind.

Pomona had always been a bit of a gossip, going back to her days as a Professor's assistant under Professor Ward when she had fed the rumors that the middle-aged man was having an inappropriate relationship with a student, a rumor that wound up, fortunately for her, being accurate.

"She told me, rather smugly I might add." The rotund woman spat.

Whatever Septima had said, Pomona had taken it personally.

"She said that had that sociopath Potter competed, he would have represented Hogwarts better than Cedric!"

Silently he agreed with his deputies assessment, though he wouldn't let it show on his face.

"The boy shows talent, yes. But he lacks the moral compass to call himself a champion; I don't know what Professor Tonks was thinking, choosing him as a fourth-year dueling representative!"

He felt a tinge of anger stir inside of him as her comments hit close to home. People feared potential, and Harry Potter had it in spades.

"Both students represented themselves, and the schools, admirably." He stated diplomatically.

He didn't need legilimency to know what Pomona was thinking.

"Though it is to be expected." Pomona stated thoughtfully, seemingly ignoring his comment as she began tapping her fingers gently against his desk. "Septima has always had favorites. Martha used to regal me of stories of a young Septima Vector aggressively defending Corban against his critics."

"Martha?" Years of practice kept the surprise out of Albus Dumbledore's voice.

The casual mention of Martha Yaxley by Pomona reminded him of why he had kept the old gossip close for all these years.

Martha Rosier and Pomona Sprout. Lifelong friends who wound up on different sides of a civil war, never letting their ideological differences disrupt their friendship, no matter how many lives were lost.

One example among the hundreds that explained how Voldemort could have disappeared for over a decade, only to return to a stagnant society, primed once again to be susceptible to his manipulations.

"I wasn't aware that Septima was on friendly terms with the family."

There had been four men in Martha Yaxley, nee Rosier's family.

Three of them were killed fighting for Tom while the fourth had been too young to be involved.

Pomona's face perked up and her smile widened, it wasn't very often she knew something he didn't.

"Oh yes!" She exclaimed smugly. "Helena Vector worked for Martha for years prior to her death."

Pomona added the last part solemnly; the Battle in Hogsmeade had made many orphans.

"After Helena's passing, Martha hired Septima to do some work over the holidays, she practically lived on their estate!"

The conversation drifted for several more minutes before he kindly excused the energetic witch.

As he watched her descend his winding staircase, Albus found his mind drifting back to what he had learned.

' _Why did Septima keep this from me?'_

Before quickly adding; _'did she?'_

Placing his wand against his temple, he focused on his initial interview of the charming half-blood.

Using occlumency to provide clarity, the headmaster found the conversation they had had all those years ago before removing it from his mind and placing it in a vial.

Quickly he began to make his way back to his private office, where his pensieve sat, only to be interrupted by the sound of a woman clearing his throat behind him.

Turning around he offered the portrait a smile.

"Yes Doras?"

"Professor Snape wishes to see you immediately."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Dumbledore placed the vial back in his desk, locking it securely before exiting his office.

* * *

The sound of talons clutching the windowsill grabbed his attention as he set his fork down and turned towards the noise.

'Hoot.' Perseus greeted as he hopped off the windowsill, giving Terry an unblemished view of the Celtic Sea.

The proud Eagle Owl helped himself to a bit of bacon as Terry caught view of the light blue seal holding the piece of parchment together.

Clamping down on his occlumency, Terry calmly wiped his face before turning to his parents.

"Would it be okay if I spent the morning down on the beach?"

Melisa and Edward Boot shared an amused look as they communicated wordlessly for a short moment.

"I guess that would be okay." His mother replied, a teasing tone to her voice.

That was all the permission the fifteen-year-old needed before he excused himself from the table and made his way to the door.

Exiting his house, Terry ran the short distance to the steep staircase that led him from his family's Cornish summer home, down finely carved cliffs, and to the rich blue sea below.

Conjuring himself a simple beach chair, Terry sat down, letting his toes sink into the sand as the cool sea water splashed against his feet.

He hadn't realized how much he had come to rely on Marci until she had kissed him goodbye three days ago.

' _She did say she'd write.'_

He had been worried that he wouldn't receive any post for another week while his family took holiday at their summer home in Newquay.

The strong scent of lavender greeted his senses, reminding him of the Yule Ball, causing his heart to flutter momentarily.

An idea struck him right as he was about to dive into the letter, causing him to pause momentarily.

"Accio mouse!" He whispered, chastising himself for not being able to cast the spell silently yet.

As the brown-haired boy waited for Perseus' treat to arrive, he quickly transfigured a large rock into a basic cage for the small rodent.

A moment later the captured mouse was scurrying around the cage, and Terry was using his letter knife to carefully break the seal.

' _Harry can never find out about this.'_ He told himself with a smile, not after all the teasing Terry had put him through about his Daphne obsession.

Still smiling, Terry let his thin fingers grasp the soft parchment, eager to see what was inside.

His smile turned into a look of panic a moment later as a violent tug at his navel caused him to blackout, leaving the beach empty once more.

* * *

He sighed in frustration, undoing his tie for the third time, only to try again.

"That looked fine, Harry!" Tonks groaned from her stool in the corner. Tonks, dressed in her dark violet robes, the two crests on her right breasts marking her as the custodian of both the Potter and Black votes, whined at him.

"I don't know why you refuse to use magic, there's a spell that ties the tie for you, you know."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead going through the motions once more.

The truth was the habit went back to his primary school days.

Despite his aunt's unfettered dislike of him, the Dursley's had an image to maintain, and that meant pressed shirts, slacks, and ties to church every Sunday.

The mundane event was the only time he got to wear clothes that belonged to _him_ , and he had learned to take a pride in his, at the time, haggard appearance.

"I told you, _Nymphadora._ " He said, purring her name as a triumphant smile crossed his face, a perfect double Windsor knot reflecting back at him in the mirror.

Turning around to face his former professor, his eyes fell upon Phineas Nigellus, who he supposed was spying on him for Dumbledore.

"I'm a creature of habit."

At that moment the most disliked headmaster in Hogwarts history cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself.

"Headmaster Dumbledore asked me to remind you that session begins at the top of the hour."

"Tell him we'll be there." Tonks replied for the both of them.

The room seemed to fall silent the second he stepped out of the floo.

His eyes darted around the same greeting room the Wizengamot used for his godfather's funeral.

' _Calm yourself, Harry. You can do this.'_

Rummaging around in his pocket, he removed a small vial of amber liquid, turning ever-so-slightly from view, he uncorked the vial, downing the honey-colored potion in one go.

Harry immediately felt a calming sensation wash over him.

' _Thank you, Terry!'_ He said silently. Thanking his best friend for the calming draught.

"I don't like how I stick out." He said pointedly as he stepped out into the atrium, Tonks on his arm.

Tonks shot him an amused look. "They're just jealous of your rugged handsomeness." She said, messing his hair. "I always knew you'd look good in Gryffindor Scarlet."

He frowned. It was no coincidence that the robes worn by underage Lords was scarlet. Eldric Gryffindor, Godric's grandfather, had come up with tradition.

"Lord Potter." A deep voice greeted him.

"Lord Greengrass." He greeted in return to the taller man, an amused smile at Alfred's formality resting on his face.

"It's good to see you Harry, are you nervous?" Alfred's response was casual and welcoming.

He smiled. "Of course not." He said. "It's just an introduction."

Alfred gave him an amused smile before greeting Tonks.

"Madam Tonks, will you be joining us for Astoria's birthday party at the beginning of the month?"

Tonks, who had decided to attend the Wizengamot in her natural form, gave Alfred a feral smile.

"I'm training for the London Invitational, so unfortunately I won't be able to make it. Though, I've asked Septima to pass along my gift."

"How's Victoria?" Harry asked, injecting himself back into the conversation.

Alfred raised an eyebrow; "you don't want to know how Daphne is?"

He rolled his eyes. "I know how Daphne is, I just talked to her."

His mind drifted back to the mundane conversation they had had not an hour ago through Sirius's enchanted mirrors.

Alfred chuckled. "Victoria is well. She cannot wait to thank you for letting us use your box at the opera."

He smiled appreciatively. Truth be told, he had no interest in the opera, though the Potter's had a permanent box at the house, a gift for a generous donation from his grandmother.

"As long as Victoria plans on thanking me with food, you two can use the box whenever you'd like."

The blonde man grinned. "No need to worry there."

Since he had had the opportunity to try Victoria's cooking, he had been attempting to pressure Daphne to learn from her mother, only to be rebuked.

The three of them chatted animatedly for several more minutes before moving to mill about the room.

"Supreme Mugwump Boot!" He said, raising his voice slightly in order to grab the jovial man's attention.

"Lord Potter!" He smiled, turning from his conversation with Lady Fawcett. "I'm glad to see you in attendance!"

"I'm glad to be here." He said with a calm confidence. "How's Terry?"

"When I left him, he was rushing to the beach to read a letter from Marci."

Harry laughed - Terry had been grateful when his father had offered the French witch an apprenticeship at his firm for the summer, however he had insisted that he wouldn't miss her while they were separated for a few days.

' _I'm going to give him so much shit for this.'_ He thought,a rugged smile forming on his face.

"Remus wanted me to thank you and Melisa again for her offer. He's looking forward to getting started."

The next stage in Melisa Boot's project included advancing the Wolfsbane potion from a treatment to a cure for lycanthropy. When offered the chance to help reach her goal, Moony had jumped at the opportunity.

"She's happy to have him. There aren't many subjects with his level of education. His insight will be invaluable to her."

Being a werewolf meant, at best, being ostracized and at worst death. The fact that Albus Dumbledore had allowed a boy infected with lycanthropy to attend Hogwarts would have caused riots.

Thankfully Remus's condition wasn't widely known.

"Lord Potter." A stern voice from behind him interrupted his conversation with Terry's father.

Turning around, he was met with a tall, well-built woman with dark, curly red hair, black robes, and a familiar crest on her right breast.

"Lady Bones." He greeted the newly appointed head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement respectfully with a deep bow.

"It's great to finally meet you." He said diplomatically, doing his best to remember his etiquette lessons with Madam Glass.

"I look forward to your speech."

He fastened what he hoped was a charming smile to his face.

"Please, Lady Bones, call me Harry."

' _I wonder what she wants?'_

While friendly enough, Houses Bones, Potter, and Black didn't necessarily see eye to eye on a wide array of subjects.

"Then, Harry, I insist you call me Amelia." The smile on the older woman's face looked almost unnatural, highlighting the pronounced dimples on her cheeks, drawing him into her attractive dark eyes.

For a moment he found himself wondering if this is what her niece Susan would look like when she grew up.

"I don't have much time right now, and unfortunately that speech is going to have to wait." Amelia said in a slightly rushed voice. "But I had heard you would be attending today's session and wanted to welcome you to the chamber personally."

He smiled. "Thank you, Amelia."

' _That's not why you're here.'_

"I was hoping you would join me, and a few others, at my estate this Saturday for lunch? I have a proposal I wish to discuss with you."

His interest piqued, he chanced a glance - first at Tonks, then at Alfred. Receiving subtle approval, he smiled; "what can I bring?"

Sticking to the edges of the room, a nondescript rat scurried passed security and up a dimly lit staircase towards the furthest entrance to the Wizengamot from the street.

Hiding in the shadows, Peter Pettigrew transformed back into his human form, revealing a chubby man with salt and pepper hair and sickly skin.

Peeking around the corner, the ratty man counted four guards lackadaisically milling about the hall.

Reaching into his pocket he removed a vial filled with a clear liquid before placing a bubble head charm on himself and spiking the vial onto the marble floor.

The room quickly filled with a thick fog.

The hallway filled with the sound of violent choking before he heard the sound of four bodies collapsing to the floor.

Pettigrew waited patiently for the fog to clear before quickly transfiguring the bodies of the two guards into a couple of potted plants, placing them on the decorative shelves above the entrance before considering his next steps.

Taking a deep breath, the animagus reached into his pocket, removing the piece of parchment provided to Bellatrix by her spy before being passed along to him, and got to work.

He groaned for what felt like the hundredth time, his nerves having long since been replaced by frustration.

He tapped his foot on the floor impatiently as Lady Fawcett reported her committee's findings on the giant population in the British Isles.

"In conclusion…"

' _Finally.'_ He thought as the young woman's monotonous voice filled the chamber.

His eyes drifted across the room, and by the looks of it, most of the Wizengamot members seemed to be thinking along the same lines as himself.

On the far side of the chamber, Lord Abbott and Dowager Longbottom appeared to be quietly conversing amongst themselves while Dumbledore's attention seemed to be taken by what appeared to be a muggle crossword puzzle.

Seeing the headmaster caused his own mind to drift towards the upcoming school year.

He'd be finishing his basic education in both charms and transfiguration this year, while he and Daphne would both be joining sixth year defense and runes.

He would also be attending his first formal warding classes.

On the opposite side of the chamber Lords Flint and Macnair were exchanging glances while Lord Parkinson appeared to have skipped the proceedings all together.

Thinking of warding caused his mind to drift, first to Septima and then to Fleur, who would be attending the London Invitational next month and wanted to meet him for lunch.

He'd agreed, out of curiosity more than anything else.

Lunch with a veela, he grinned, _'Sounds like the start of one of those stories Sirius used to keep locked in his desk_.'

Lord Parkinson wasn't the only Lord missing from Malfoy's block, he noticed as his attention turned back towards the session. Crabbe, Gayle, even Goldstein were all missing.

His eyes rested on Lucius Malfoy, who was eyeing Lady Fawcett with faux interest.

' _What the hell is going on?'_

"Tonks." He whispered, startling the witch out of her daydream.

"Is there any reason the traditionalists would be missing so many delegates?"

The duelist glanced around the chamber slowly, and her attitude seemed to change as she looked towards where the traditionalists normally sat, the section had seemingly emptied.

Instantly she was more alert, her hand disappearing into her robes, no doubt searching for her wand, her actions immediately setting him on edge as he gripped his own.

"It's not a voting day, maybe they decided to leave?"

His words sounded weak even to him. Members of a caucus didn't all just walkout on a session of the Wizengamot, you never know when an emergency motion may appear.

"Where'd they go?" He said a little too loudly, drawing undue attention to himself.

Lord Smith opened his mouth to chastise him, but his words were drowned out by a large explosion near the west entrance.

He wasn't a very smart man, he counted his ability to admit as much as one of his greatest strengths.

With simple instructions, however, he could accomplish quite a bit, including lowering the intrusion wards surrounding the Wizengamot main chamber.

A counter-clockwise swish of his wand, and the three pale orange beams of light in front of the entrance shattered, leaving the chamber unprotected, and Pettigrew feeling a rare sense of accomplishment.

Turning his wand to his left forearm, he hissed in pain as his wand caused his dark mark to burn, emitting a wisp of pale, grey smoke.

A moment later the dark mark glowed black, signifying that Bellatrix had received his message.

A small smile on his face; the traitor transformed into a rat once more, having played his part.

A light smoke filled the chamber, distorting the chambers visibility by just enough to cause confusion.

Streaks of light cut through the smoke, crashing into a handful of unsuspecting people near the entrance, covering the area with blood and debris.

"We need to leave, now!" Tonks yelled, placing herself between him and the guardrail overlooking the lower part of the chamber, her wand held at the ready.

He silently agree as he watched aurors in blood red robes exchange spells with a second group of identically dressed aurors who were providing cover for a group of masked individuals in the process of spanning out along the upper levels of the chamber, taking aim at those on the lower level.

Below he caught sight of Dumbledore, who was deftly dueling an unmasked Bellatrix Lestrange.

The crazed death eater danced around the room, avoiding the relatively safe spells being thrown at her by Dumbledore, and returning fire with killing curses, putting the former Supreme Mugwump on the defensive.

He watched in shock as Voldemort's general appeared to smile through the ordeal before leveling her wand at the back of Lady Fawcett's head and letting loose a bludgeoner, causing Lady Fawcett's head to cave inwards, covering the area in brain and skull fragments.

The display of violence caused a shift in Dumbledore's attitude as his spells took on a more violent nature, causing the psychotic woman to throw back her head in ecstasy.

"Harry!" Tonks shouted as she traded spells with two smaller death eaters.

He caught the small bottlecap serving as their emergency portkey expecting to be whisked away, only to find himself still standing in the middle of a battle zone a half second later.

Half shocked, he stood still for a long moment, watching the chaos around him.

" _Bloquer les sorties!"_ He heard a freshly unmasked attacker declare in French.

' _What the hell?'_ He thought before taking aim, silently unleashing a torrent of bone breakers at the French wizard.

His first attempt missed, but his second and third spells struck true, breaking the man's left leg before his second effort hit the man in the neck, ending his life a second later.

"Harry! Look out!"

Tonks voice cut through the confusion like a knife, and his eyes widened at the burnt orange curse that had been flung in his direction.

Too late to shield, Harry smacked the curse aside, causing it to hit an auror off to the side.

Ignoring the man's painful howl, Harry spotted his opponent several meters in front of him and immediately stopped trying to shield in order to go on the offensive.

He found himself smiling despite himself as he traded spells with the man.

He had spent thousands of hours perfecting spells and strategies, specifically for a moment like this.

He shimmied to his left, catching sight of a dismembered hand flying through the air.

Harry quickly enlarged and animated the dismembered hand, banishing it towards his opponent.

His opponent took care of the hand with a quick exploding curse, covering the surrounding area in a fresh coat of gore.

Off to the side he noticed Tonks shepherding Lords Smith and Corner towards a larger group of Wizengamot members who were being guarded by a group of aurors who had created a protective semi-circle around them.

As he dodged his attackers retort, his wand never stopped moving.

' _Preforo, ardere sagitto, fulminis!'_

The older man dodged his piercing curse and the hoard of arrows before being hit with a violent purple bolt of lightning, causing the man to pulsate as his body was filled with electricity.

His efforts seemed small in comparison as attackers continued to breach all the exits, effectively blocking all escape routes.

Casting a quick disillusionment charm on himself, Harry weaved his way through the crowd as he made his way downstairs, hoping to sneak behind enemy lines and out a door unnoticed.

A familiar voice stole his attention as he made his way down the stairs and towards what he hoped was an exit.

"Albus! We need help over here!" The shaky voice of Edmund Boot who, along with a severely injured Alfred Greengrass was desperately trying to fend off a pair of Death Eaters, caused him to abandon his plans.

' _Shit.'_

With a sigh he took aim, unleashing a triage of organ rupturing curses.

The spells missed, but drew the attention of one of the attackers, who responded by throwing killing curses towards their invisible foe indiscriminately.

' _Shit, shit, shit.'_ He thought as he dove to the left before dropping his disillusionment charm and quickly conjuring a marble wall to block the second curse meant to end his life.

' _Glacius aquapilatum!'_ He repeated the spell two more times, sending three large balls of rigid ice at the two attackers, giving Edmund and Alfred a much-needed reprieve.

Alfred, wand arm hanging limply at his side, and blood running from the corner of his forehead, opened his mouth to say something before thinking better of it and turning to run off towards Augusta Longbottom, who along with a large, red-headed man and a group of aurors had retaken control of the lower entrance facing Diagon Alley.

Seeing a way out, Harry took a step towards them before collapsing to the ground in agony.

Septima waited calmly under her invisibility cloak just inside the security measures surrounding the Wizengamot chamber, waiting for her signal.

Twirling her wand in her fingers, she went over Bella's objective in her mind once more.

' _I'm not supposed to be in these situations.'_ That had been the agreement when Bellatrix had approached her, unlike her lover, her heart didn't yearn for the battlefield.

' _Yet here I am.'_ She thought with a slight frown.

Life, that's what she was trying to preserve.

' _My life, at least.'_

A scream and the sound of boots running passed her told Septima that her time was coming.

A battle had too many variables, many of which could end her life.

Feeling a warmth in her pocket, the spy hurried her way into the chamber before the aurors could initiate a lockdown of the room.

" _You'll have three minutes to accomplish the objectives and get out."_ Her escape route having been pre-arranged by the Dark Lord himself.

Making her way into the chamber, Septima clung to the walls.

' _Point me Amelia Bones.'_

When nothing happened, she frowned.

' _Point me Amelia Bones.'_

She tried again, seeing the same result.

' _Where is she?'_

The bottlecap in her pocket vibrated, warning her she was running low on time.

With a frown, she abandoned her primary objective, watching as her secondary target struggled to use his wand.

"Imperio." She muttered, pointing her wand at Alfred Greengrass.

Her ebony and dragon heartstring wand shook violently in her hand for several seconds as the man fought the effects of the spell.

Clamping down on her focus, Septima quickly gained control of the man.

' _Join Longbottom in the corner.'_ She instructed.

The blonde-haired man stalked off quietly a second later as, for the first time, she noticed Harry trading spells with the Carrow twins.

A wave of disappointment shot through her a second later as a final vibration from the bottlecap caused Septima to abandon her viewing of the impromptu duel and hurry off towards her escape route back to Hogwarts.

Shrill laughter invaded his consciousness as he dropped to his knees in pain.

" _Anyone can trade spells, Potter! The trick is surviving the ones you're hit with!"_

Snape's voice echoed out in his mind as he fought the effects of the cruciatus curse.

Forcing the pain from his mind, Harry shot off a silent laceration curse at his still laughing opponent, catching the squat woman off guard as his spell tore through her robes, cutting deeply into her abdomen.

A thick, red pool of blood began to flow freely from the wound, causing his attacker to pale.

He didn't have time to savor his small victory as the woman's partner growled in anger, unleashing a torrent of orange and black flames his way.

"Aqua Erecto!" He shouted as a thick wall of water surrounded him.

Flames hitting the water caused it to evaporate into hot steam, burning his skin and causing him to grimace as he ended his spell.

' _Jahannam.'_

A half-dozen balls of dense, black flames appeared in front of him, orbiting him like planets as he dodged another one of the other man's spells.

Meanwhile, to his side, the other death eater had patched up her abdomen, and was in the process of sending a plethora of heinous-looking spells his way.

Abandoning his other target momentarily, Harry let go control of the balls of flame, willing them towards the woman who was intent on ending his life.

Around him he noticed aurors had retaken most of the room while healers had begun to attend to the numerous injured members of the Wizengamot.

Three of the cursed balls of flame found their mark, tearing through the woman with ease, spraying his face with a stream of dark red blood.

The woman's partner howled in rage, capturing the chambers attention and sending a fresh set of killing curses his way.

Blood covering his vision, Harry blindly dodged the spells, hoping to avoid the deadly green light.

Still moving, he shot three small, white balls of light towards the erratic man.

Quickly the white balls expanded into long, thin ropes, wrapping themselves around the death eater before slicing through his skin, cutting his torso into several grotesque pieces, leaving a mess of blood and organs in its wake.

The chamber went silent, even as a dark green skull with a snake in its mouth floated harmlessly above them.

Turning away from his victim, he caught sight of a beady-eyed woman with an expression of unrestrained glee on her face as the man next to him snapped a picture.

* * *

 **A/N:** I was asked why the Greengrass family was so "poor." My answer is simple; they aren't. They are exceptionally wealthy. However, if you're worth $25 million and all your friends are billionaires, you're going to perceive yourself as being poor.

 **A/N 2:** In canon Corban Yaxley is an old man; in this story he is a younger DE in his 20's trying to make a name for himself. If you don't like the continuity error, then you'll _hate_ "Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald."


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** I'm not making money off of this, unfortunately.

 **A/N:** Merry Christmas!

* * *

 _*Drip*_

The sound of water dropping off a pipe in the not-so-far-off distance, slowly forming a pool of water on the dingy stone floor caused him to stir once more.

 _*Drip*_

He moved slowly, his elbows brushing against his knees as he reached to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Half blind without his glasses, Terry tried to turn his head around towards the source of the noise, only to be rebuked by his shoulder hitting against the iron bars.

He had no idea how long he had been in this situation only that twice a day a small portion of food would appear in his cage.

' _Or is it only once a day?'_

He had no way to tell. The food may have been arriving once every other day, for all he knew.

 _*Drip*_

His mind drifted back to his last moments of freedom, trying in vain to remember how he had arrived here.

' _I received a letter from Marci…'_

What happened next was a jumbled mess of images.

' _Did I read the letter on the beach? Or in my room? Or maybe at the pub on the corner?'_

He had debated that question for as long as he could remember before a new question had crawled its way into his mind.

' _Did I read the letter at all?'_

"What is this?" A thick voice in heavily accented English echoed off the walls.

Whomever the first man was talking to responded in an unknown language before the first man responded in that same language.

 _*Drip*_

Boots echoing off the stone caused him to push back against his cage instinctively, as if the extra millimeter of distance would protect him.

The vision of a tall man with shoulder length black hair and a goatee made itself known for the first time.

"I apologize for the unseemly conditions, my friend. My men were a bit overzealous, it would seem."

He heard the cage door creak open for the first time since he arrived, as he grasped at the slender man's large hands, he was slowly pulled out of his cage and handed his glasses.

The dark basement looked more like a dungeon, with its dimly lit torches and musty smell.

' _How long have I been down here?'_ He thought as he caught a glimpse of the rather large puddle of water sitting behind his small cage.

"Thank you." His voice sounded harsh to his ears, and cracked from disuse.

The other man frowned.

 _*Drip*_

"I told them that the Dark Lord did not specify what your living conditions should be, so there was no need for them to be unduly cruel."

He gulped in fear, the full extent of his situation finally settling on him.

"But my nephew, he has always been a bit overzealous."

The man let out a jovial belly laugh, as if the unneeded cruelty was a positive character trait.

"I am Sergei, welcome to my home."

Without another word the middle-aged man began to walk slowly towards a previously unseen staircase on the far side of the room.

His joints ached with each step as he made it up the stairs slowly, Sergei never out of his sight.

"Please," his captor began, gesturing towards a washroom; "tidy yourself up, the elf will show you to the dining hall when you're done, you must be hungry."

' _What the hell is going on?'_ He thought as he was ushered into a washroom with a stationary painting of a large sword.

' _This man - Sergei - is holding me on behalf of the Dark Lord?'_

The thought was terrifying.

' _What the hell would he want with me?'_

He took a second to enjoy the feeling of hot water splashing against his body before answering his own question.

' _Your dad's the Supreme Mugwump, your best friend is Harry Potter, and your mom is on the brink of discovering a cure for lycanthropy.'_

There were literally a dozen reasons as to why he could be in this situation.

' _What do I do now?'_

As he slowly got dressed in a clean pair of robes, no answer presented itself.

Upon exiting the washroom, a perky elf thrust several potions into his hands.

"Master says prisoner be taking these now." The elf squeaked, its ears wiggling in the torchlight.

He frowned. "What are they?"

The elf shrugged.

"I'm not taking them." Terry responded stubbornly.

" _Unknown potions can have dire consequences, Terry."_ His mom's words echoed clearly in his mind.

The elf waved his hands and Terry found himself flying through the air before smashing against the stone wall with a sickening crunch, his left arm falling useless to his side.

"Prisoners be taking all the potions now!" The elf half-cried, half- pleaded.

"No." He gritted out through his teeth.

The elf stared at him for a long moment with big, pitying eyes before disappearing.

Several minutes later he heard a loud stomping from down the hallway, an angry Sergei charging towards him.

He greeted him with a fist to the side of the head, knocking him down immediately.

Before he could get back up, he saw a black boot impact his robes.

Terry gasped in pain as the man repeatedly kicked him in the ribs, yelling at him in the same unknown language as before.

After a long while the kicking stopped, leaving Sergei panting heavily, bent over with his hands resting on his thighs several meters away from him.

Sergei offered him an apologetic look before waving his wand.

Immediately Terry felt his injuries begin to heal themselves as the blood on his robes disappeared.

"I am sorry, my friend." His tormentor began. "Sometimes I lose myself." He chuckled before forcing the potions down Terry's throat.

"Would you please join me for dinner?"

' _As if I have a choice.'_

* * *

The tea room was sparsely decorated and adorned in light pinks and greens.

"Sugar and honey, please." He said to the diminutive elf.

"Yes sir." It squeaked.

He was well aware that the other occupants of the room were watching his every move with varying degrees of interest.

Edna Abbott and Louise Bagshot stared at him mistrustfully; the former because she inexplicably blamed him and Dumbledore for her son's death at the Wizengamot, while the later saw anyone more advanced than your average sixth year as a threat.

"My grandson tells me you'll be entering seventh year charms and transfiguration classes this term?"

' _What the hell am I doing here?'_ He asked himself silently, outwardly putting on his most charming smile, making sure to look the elder Longbottom in the eyes as he answered.

' _I should be looking for Terry.'_

Augusta Longbottom had a soft spot for him, if her favorable comments to the Daily Prophet were anything to go by - Tonks suspected it may have been because he reminded her of her catatonic son, Frank.

"I will." He said, adopting a sad, reflective smile. "Professors Flitwick and McGonagall demanded more of me."

The sorrow in his voice wasn't forced; both believed in him when few did, now both were dead - likely by the same wand, so to speak.

"You would have made them all so, so proud." Dowager Longbottom responded, a solemn expression on her wrinkled face, a touch of despair clinging to her voice.

Her statement was intentionally ambiguous, as though the woman with a severe reputation was trying to comfort him.

"Thank you, Augusta."

It had been three days since Edmund had reached out to him to tell him his only son had been missing for four days.

Terry had been gone for a full week.

The Boots had not been stingy in their search, hiring the best private eyes Europe had to track down their only child.

Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, acting through Harry, had offered their own resources - primarily intelligence gathered by Bill, Tonks, and Snape.

The three women plus Amelia Bones represented the leadership of the Wizengamots "Women's Caucus," voting members of the body made up of families where there was no capable male representative.

"And thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Lord Potter. Especially considering the circumstances."

Unable to make much of a difference in the ongoing search, Daphne had encouraged him to put his efforts to use elsewhere.

Despite that, he had reached out to his own sources, hoping they may bear fruit.

He grinned at the older woman. The week since Voldemort had attacked the Wizengamot had sprung a debate among the populace as to whether he should be tried in court for his actions.

Thankfully the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and her advisors had decided against that course of action.

"Of course, Lady Bones."

His critics didn't need Amelia's permission to try his character.

Having concluded the pleasantries, the look on the middle-aged woman's face shifted to something a bit more serious.

Gone was the Lady of House Bones, in its place stood the intimidating woman that had climbed the hierarchy at the Ministry of Magic to become arguably the second most important person in the country.

"Prior to last Saturday I had wanted to hear your thoughts on Ms. Tonks claims about Voldemort's return. However, after Voldemort, or at the very least Bellatrix Lestrange attempted to wrest control of the ministry from the people, I think we ought to expand our agenda."

Around him he noticed the reverence that Lady's Abbott and Bagshot were eyeing the older witch with, and smiled.

' _She wants to replace Nott, and she's betting everything on my story.'_

"What would you like to know?"

He felt a tinge of legilimency brush against his defenses before pulling away.

"Everything."

He took a long sip of his tea, enjoying the strong taste of his earl grey, trying to determine where to begin.

"I cannot speak for Nymphadora Tonks, though I believe her story. I think my actions have belied that point."

Seeing he had the attention of the room, he slowly stood up, abandoning his tea on its coaster in favor of a better view.

"You are all aware of the events of October 31st 1981, as well as my familial situation there-after; prior to my eleventh birthday I was unaware of this world."

The four women nodded politely, Augusta Longbottom gesturing for him to continue.

"Since arriving in this world strange incidents have seemed to follow me wherever I go."

Now pacing back and forth, he began to count the oddities off on his fingers one by one.

"During my first year, a troll meant to distract the school away from a possessed Professor Quirrell and his movements, killed my best friend. Later that year that same professor was killed while trying to steal an object that was being possessed. I was later told that Quirrell believed he could use the object to resurrect Lord Voldemort."

"Who came to those conclusions?" The harsh voice of Louise Bagshot interrupted, skepticism in her scratchy voice.

Surprisingly it was Edna Abbott who responded.

"Jacob," Edna started, a slight hitch in her voice, "and Elizabeth Fawley carried out the investigation into those incidents for the Board of Governors."

Edna's voice carried a hint of a challenge, as if daring the batty woman to question the conclusions drawn by the deceased.

"Louise, it is important to remember that what the report states is that Quirrell perceived these things to be true, it doesn't mean they are."

Harry felt a bit betrayed by Amelia's proclamation, though he understood her need to remain impartial - facts, not emotions would sway the orderly woman.

"Thank you, Amelia."

The next hour was spent in much the same fashion; Harry would detail his history with the Death Eaters, someone would present themselves as skeptical, and he would counter.

The process was tedious.

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement took a sip of her brandy, staring off into the rolling hills that backed up her ancestral home.

"Do you believe the British Ministry, as currently constructed is capable of winning this war?"

His eyes drifted around the room as he composed his response.

"I'm neither a soldier nor a politician, ma'am."

"Yet you have near unprecedented power in the Wizengamot, and have killed at least seven men in battle."

He grimaced.

"A situation of circumstance, Amelia."

For the first time the stern woman glared at him.

"I'm not the Daily Prophet, stop avoiding the damn question."

' _What do I know about winning a war?'_

"I gather the opinions of my advisors before forming my own." He answered truthfully.

"I know that measures to increase defense spending have recently failed to pass, giving Minister Nott a valid excuse as to his inaction."

Amelia nodded. "That's not the only mistake this administration has made."

' _Here it comes.'_

"Between defense, failure to advance anti-corruption measures, and the attack at the Wizengamot, I'm not sure Minister Nott has the leadership skills to win this fight."

' _She's not wrong.'_ Nott wasn't trying to win, he was trying to survive.

"I plan on calling for a vote of no confidence when we convene on the first of the month, can I count on the support of House Potter and House Black?"

Sitting down he grabbed his now lukewarm glass of earl grey, taking a slow sip to buy himself a couple of seconds.

Despite the chiding of Daphne, he hadn't come to this meeting with any sort of agenda, the truth was he had no idea what he wanted in return for his support.

Throughout the first war Voldemort had relied on subterfuge and small targeted attacks as a way to gain and exert power; rarely did the dark lord resort to large-scale attacks like the attack on the Wizengamot.

"In exchange for the support of Houses Black and Potter I expect a direct line to your office."

He hoped his words came out as more of a statement rather than a question. While he had no idea what he wanted, Daphne might.

Lady Bones nodded her head sharply. "One of my duties as Minister would be to take on advisors."

He smiled in agreement.

"But you're not just asking for my support, are you?"

For the first time Amelia Bones looked uncomfortable.

"It would be helpful if I had the support of Edmund Boot and Alfred Greengrass as well."

"I cannot speak for the Boot family." He said, finishing his tea.

He _could_ however speak for Alfred and Daphne.

"However, Alfred will support anyone who appoints him to a prominent position, politics matters less to him than familial status, Minister of the Interior, perhaps?"

Off to the side he could hear Louise's exaggerated scoff, while Edna wore a particularly disgusted look on her face, even Augusta Longbottom didn't appear overly pleased by the demand.

Amelia looked far from sold on the idea.

Time to push.

"Bellatrix Lestrange was coming for _you_ on Yule, Lady Bones. She will come for you again, my allies can become your allies."

She frowned. "Deliver four 'yes' votes, and Greengrass will get his position."

Sensing an end to the meeting Harry stood up once more, tapping his robes to straighten them out before turning to each woman in kind, saving Amelia for last.

"I hope you're prepared for this, Minister."

Smiling, he threw a fistful of floo powder into the fireplace, and stepped through.

* * *

"NO MORE NOTT! NO MORE NOTT!" The crowd chanted in unison.

He joined the protests, intoxicated by the energy of the mob.

Around him he noticed several reporters milling about the ministry building in the early evening sun, engaging protestors on the outskirts of the group in conversation, undoubtedly gathering quotes for their periodicals.

The third night of protests following the attack at the Wizengamot was the biggest yet. Made up primarily of young half-bloods and muggleborns who were becoming increasingly concerned for their own safety as pureblood rhetoric had become more and more prevalent in daily conversation.

The days since the attack at the Wizengamot had brought a maelstrom of debate about not only the claim that Voldemort had returned from the dead, but the way in which those who repelled the attackers had handled themselves.

The debate had centered primarily on the actions of _Lord_ Potter.

Whether he was saying the title out loud or in his mind, Colton always seemed to put added emphasis on the antiquated titles still used in the wizarding world.

" _If those who protect us use the same tactics as those who attack us then we have no right to claim the moral high ground!" Carissa shouted, slamming her fists into the Gelded Griffins thick wooden table._

" _What would you have him do? 'Stupefy' them?" He had retorted, equally passionate in his response._

" _If he was strong enough to cast such horrific spells, he's strong enough to cast an advanced shield charm!"_

He shook the argument from his mind, joining in in the chanting once more.

"HEY, HEY. HO, HO. MINISTER NOTT HAS GOT TO GO!"

His wife represented a growing number of the population, led by the insufferable Rita Skeeter, who had begun to draw comparisons to the man Potter was defending them from.

"BRING ON BONES! BRING ON BONES!" The crowd began, showing their support for the ascension of Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Despite this world's relative intolerance, he couldn't help but admire this society's lack of sexism.

At least if the woman in question was a pureblood.

A nudge at his shoulder caused him to take a few steps forward as a tall man in long, dark robes pushed his way through the crowd.

' _Rude.'_

As the man made his way through the crowd he noticed him reach into his pocket, pulling out a musty vial.

Quietly the man conjured the bubblehead charm around himself as he raised the vial above his head.

' _Shit.'_ He thought as he hastily cast his own bubblehead charm.

The man smashed the vial on the ground a half-second later, filling the air with a thick, mustard colored smoke.

Around him people were coughing and collapsing to the ground, their bodies convulsing violently as foam poured from their mouths.

His eyes widened as a sudden streak of green found its way through the crowd, causing him to dive hastily to the cobblestone.

' _No. No. No. This can't be happening!'_ He thought as he tried to lay perfectly still on the ground.

He lost track of time as the smoke was replaced by a plethora of green light.

He shut his eyes in fear as explosions shook the ground.

"Tonks! Your team to the right!"

' _Tonks? Where do I know that name?'_

Cracking his eyes open, Colton chanced a glance around.

Several meters in front of him an athletically built woman with black hair tied back in a bun was flanked by a half-dozen men in battle robes, she was conversing with a sturdy looking man with long, thick red hair.

' _Nymphadora Tonks, England's top ranked duelist, has served as the proxy for both Houses Black and Potter…'_

The article from this week's 'Independent Sorcerer' rang out in his mind, causing him to relax slightly.

Cancelling his bubblehead charm and getting to his knees, he gripped his wand tightly and took a look around.

The scene was pure mayhem as ministry aurors and Potter's forces clashed with two dozen masked attackers.

' _I can make it.'_ He thought as he caught sight of the apparition point several meters in front of him.

' _If I crawl.'_

Positioning himself properly, Colton harkened back to his dad's old VHS tapes showing men crawling under barbed wire during army training.

Mimicking their actions, Colton slowly began to make his way towards the apparition point, doing his best to avoid the various bodies surrounding him.

"Death Eaters! Retreat!"

A booming voice called out, causing him to feel a sense of relief.

" _Morsmordre!"_ A masked man yelled, filling the early evening sky with a floating skull and snake before apparating away.

* * *

" ' _T' -_

 _I'm wondering if you or your family have heard anything regarding the whereabouts of our classmate._

 _I have some information you may find helpful, if you're interested."_

Theo tapped his wand to the parchment, frowning a second later when the unsigned missive wasn't immediately engulfed in flames.

Taking a deep breath and practicing the wand movement's once-more the fifteen year old cleared his mind before taping his wand to his parchment again.

' _Incendio.'_ He thought, picturing the heavy parchment on the desk in front of him burning to ash.

He smiled softly as the parchment in front of him slowly burned away.

' _Professor Avery will be pleased.'_

He could cast nearly every one of his first, second, and third year spells silently, something few in his year could say.

Burning his correspondence with Potter had become habit by this point, though never had the ritual been this quiet.

He yearned for his father's advice on how to handle his situation with Potter, unfortunately his father had been stuck at the ministry trying to maintain control of the last vestiges of his power.

He thought through his options, remembering his great-uncle's advice to him at the start of last year.

" _Protect the family."_

It had been his father's intentions to do just that when he had had him open a line of communication with Potter.

As it had been his own intentions to do the same when he ignored his father's orders to warn Potter of the attack at the Wizengamot.

Lives had been lost and it had earned his father public scorn, but the Dark Lord was sure to be thankful.

Pleasing the Dark Lord would ensure his families survival in the long-run, even if it first cost his father his career.

* * *

He winced in pain as Sergei's elf tended to his injuries, generously applying Essence of Dittany and Burn Salve where needed.

"You mustn't be angering master like that!" The elf scolded, poking him in his already sore ribs with his boney fingers.

' _I really should know better, by now.'_

It had been fifteen meals, and seven beatings since he had met Sergei. His latest a result of not being able to answer the sturdy Russians questions.

' _Do I really not know anything?'_ Terry had also found it increasingly difficult to believe that he knew nothing about his mum's research.

A loud cringe stopped the elf from her yammering and drew Terry's attention towards the dimly lit doorway towards the back of the basement.

"Would you leave us, elf?" Sergei's voice was confident and commanding before the elf left the two of them alone.

He flinched involuntarily as the man's mahogany wand glistened in the torchlight, causing the black-haired man to frown.

"I am sorry, Terry." He began, a comfortable looking black chair appearing beside the Ravenclaw.

He eyed the chair longingly before briefly meeting the older man's eyes.

Sergei offered him a nearly imperceptible nod causing him to relax as he allowed his body to sink into the comfortable leather chair.

Reaching for the lever that he knew would recline the chair, he felt a shock run up his arm, causing him to pull his hand away quickly.

"Not right now, Terry." The man chuckled. "You have been through quite a bit, and I don't want you to sleep just yet."

He nodded in understanding. His time here had been rough.

"It has never been my intention to hurt you, Terry. I hope you know that."

The man stared at him, silently urging him to agree with his assessment.

Terry felt himself nod in acceptance, causing Sergei to relax visibly.

' _Good.'_

"The Dark Lord has tasked me with learning more about your mother's work. If I fail to get results, I, and in turn you, will face consequences."

That much he had gathered; nearly every question had been about his mother.

' _Surprising, given who I'm friends with.'_

"I understand, sir."

The answer seemed to please Sergei.

"I realize that you are not privy to your mother's research, and that you don't even live in the same house as her for a large portion of the year!"

' _Really? You understand that?'_

"But even the smallest bit of information could make both our lives easier."

He weighed his options.

He did know _something._

"Sir." He began timidly, his eyes glancing briefly at the man in front of him before returning to the floor.

"My mum was going to begin working with a friend of Harry's father, a man named Lupin, to further her research on the 'Wolfsbane' potion."

Sergei beamed.

"What were they looking into, specifically?"

He frowned, using his thumb to push his broken glasses back onto his nose.

"They were looking for a cure, sir." He replied evenly.

"Thank you, Terry!" He could feel the gratitude in the older man's voice.

A moment later his chair disappeared, causing him to fall to the ground.

Sergei reached a hand out, pulling him to his feet quickly.

"Why don't you go get cleaned up and join me for dinner? Afterwards, I think you could use a good night's sleep."

Terry smiled appreciatively at the prospect.

' _I can plot my escape when my mind's clearer.'_

* * *

Riding the coattails of the woman in front of him, the rat scampered unnoticed through the dusty bar.

Despite his forms usefulness, Peter remembered how disappointed he had been on that fateful night in his fifth year, surrounded by Sirius, Remus, and James as his body twisted and turned for several agonizing seconds before depositing a common sewer rat on the floor of the 'Shrieking Shack.'

James had grinned like a madman when Sirius pointed out that his form made Peter the perfect spy.

He hated spying. Alone on the front lines, gathering information for people who didn't appreciate his other talents.

Sticking to the shadows, Peter snuck in through the doorway before making his way to a dark corner on the far side of the room.

Bellatrix began tapping her foot in impatience, her simple black shoes kicking up dust off the floor as she waited for whomever it is that she was waiting for.

He had only been slightly surprised when Lucius had come to him, asking him to keep tabs on his chief rival.

The mistrust between the two had always been there. Dating back to the time when a young Bellatrix Black had publicly questioned Lucius's usefulness following the death of Abraxas.

" _He lacks the temperament and talent of his father, my lord. I ask you to reconsider."_

Her words echoed in his mind, clear as day the day he had viewed the memory that started it all.

" _Give him an opportunity to prove himself, Bella."_ His lord had said while he cupped the young psychopath's cheek as though the subject of their conversation wasn't in the room with them. " _Given the opportunity, I'm sure Lucius will prove to be more like his father than you think."_

Lucius had spent a fortune ensuring the Wizengamot repealed their strict immigration laws, allowing the Dark Lord to import mercenaries at a moments notice.

The victory cemented Lucius's place in his lord's ranks, while sparking a rivalry between the pair of ambitious death eaters.

He had yet to see the hatred he had seen in Lucius's eyes replicated outside that memory.

What the man wanted, he did not know. And, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't care. He wasn't disobeying his lord and he was earning a little gold in the process.

His thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the door.

The noise caused the rat to look up, his beady eyes settling on a pair of long, feminine legs.

He strained his eyes as he tried to see a face, groaning internally at the futility of the act before turning his attention to the room at-large, his eyes resting on the shadow of a chair on the opposite side of the room.

Sticking to the walls, he scurried his way by the room's occupants - who appeared to be embracing - and to the obscured chair, quickly climbing his way up the chairs leg and into the seat.

His eyes lit up when he caught sight of Bellatrix's companion.

' _Septima Vector.'_

He had been surprised to learn the identity of Bellatrix's spy at Hogwarts, although he shouldn't have been. After all, it had been her who had benefited from the deaths of Flitwick and McGonagall.

He smiled, Bellatrix had done everything in her power to obscure the identity of her spy, and he had kept his promise in not divulging her secret, it hadn't been worth the risk to betray the volatile woman.

This information would cost Lucius more.

"I cannot stay for more than a moment." The musical voice of Sirius's former fiancée rang out, disappointment diluting her voice, "but Corban came through."

Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress passed Voldemort's General a thin manila folder.

"Are you certain this is all the information the ministry has on the Greengrass family?"

Bellatrix sounded disappointed with Septima's efforts.

She appeared to nod her head sharply, a coy smile on her full lips.

"It is, but the job will be easier." The witch said, a vial resting between her long fingers catching the light of the room.

" _Half_ your job will be easier." Bellatrix corrected before covering the short distance between the two.

Septima quivered as Bellatrix stroked the younger woman's cheek, placing a tender kiss on her lips.

"If you don't get those memories, I'll be very disappointed."

* * *

The sun reflected off her lightly tanned face, gently waking her from her slumber.

Sitting up in her queen sized bed, Astoria wiped her ash-brown hair from her face with a content smile, stretching her arms high above her head.

She couldn't help but think she must look like a cat in this position.

She had enjoyed a dreamless slumber courtesy of Harry.

" _Tomorrow's a big day."_ He'd said, throwing an arm over her shoulder as they left the library. " _You'll need your rest."_

When she was eight she had stubbornly asked her parents for a big brother for Yule, only to have it explained to her that that would be impossible.

Astoria had pouted for weeks.

She treasured those little moments with Harry, taking solace in the fact that he and Daphne would always be there for her.

And he was right. She didn't need another restless night of Lily, bright lights, and laughter haunting her nightmares.

Despite her mind healer's encouraging words, she did wish the process of recovering her memory would speed up. The sooner she remembered the details the sooner she could move on.

' _There is a silver lining.'_ She reminded herself, a coy smirk replacing her eager smile as she thought about the nights she had spent practicing occlumency with Draco.

Stepping out of her bed, the newly minted fourteen year old sauntered over to her window sill, admiring the crew of people who were spending the last Saturday in June preparing for her birthday party.

She'd often found herself wondering what the laborers talked about as they worked diligently to prepare events for others.

Were they envious of her?

Did they hate her?

It couldn't help her image that she was dating a Malfoy, she knew that for certain.

Glancing down she frowned at the dead marigold's that adorned her dusty windowsill.

' _So much for that hobby.'_

After expressing her boredom in a letter, Clair had encouraged her to take up gardening.

Her new hobby held her attention for less than ten days.

' _Neville Longbottom, I am not.'_ She thought with a laugh.

"Tempus." She muttered, checking the time.

Seeing she could still make breakfast, Astoria threw on something a little more appropriate than her cream nighty before skipping out of her room and towards the kitchen.

"Good morning!" She said brightly as she entered the kitchen; greeting her parents, Daphne, and Harry each with a hug.

"Happy Birthday Stori!" Daphne said in excitement, shoving a small box in her hand. "This isn't your main gift, but Harry and I both wanted you to have it."

Harry shot her sister a bewildered look before settling for nodding his head in agreement.

Astoria took the package greedily, tearing the loosely wrapped paper to reveal a metallic tin.

Slightly puzzled, she opened the tin slowly, staring dumbly at the contents.

Three white mints.

She felt a grin begin to form as Daphne's laughter rang throughout the room.

"You have shite breath, Stori."

"Daphne! Language!" Their mother chastised.

"You don't give someone a passive aggressive gift on their birthday, Daph." She said, her tongue being greeted with the taste of peppermint as she popped a candy into her mouth. "Else I'd be giving you a contraceptive potion in August!"

Daphne's response sputtered in her mouth as her face reddened.

Next to her, Harry wasn't faring much better as he tried to stare a hole into the ground.

Turning on her heel and acting as though nothing had happened, she turned to her father; "would you mind if I brought some juice and pastries out to the workers?" She said, gesturing to the half-dozen workers who were working on decorations for that evening's party.

Her father gave her a proud smile before giving her his permission.

Chancing a last glance at her still beet red sister, Astoria smiled before making her way to the kitchen, hoping her forthcoming gesture would buy her some goodwill for the evening to come.

His eyes caught hers, and he found himself confused as the ever-present essence in his mind stirred stronger than it had in weeks.

' _Greet me with a smile and kiss my knuckles.'_

"Septima!" He said, his confusion abating unnoticed.

"Alfred!" The attractive brunette responded jovially as she set a prettily wrapped gift with a purple ribbon on the receiving table.

He let his lips briefly meet her knuckles before turning his attention back to her.

' _Without drawing attention to yourself, tell me about your keystone.'_ The auditory hallucination suggested.

Ignoring the corner of his mind that was telling him to run, Alfred offered his friend a smile.

' _Septima will love this.'_

"Did you know Harry has been tinkering with our advanced security wards?"

His words seemed to draw her in.

"For someone his age to be so advanced is incredibly impressive." She responded, clearly pleased with her protégé's progress.

' _He's still only fourteen.'_ The voice reminded him.

"It is." He agreed. "But my family would feel more secure if an expert would check over his work."

She nodded in understanding.

"Even a prodigy needs a bit of peer review."

His confusion returned as he let out a sigh.

' _You don't have time to accompany me, unfortunately. Maybe if you ask I will check them out on my own?'_

"Septima -" he started, placing a hand gently on her exposed forearm.

Her brown eyes danced with tenderness, and for a moment he found himself intoxicated by her beauty.

"I'll be a little too busy with the party to join you, would you mind checking them at some point this evening?"

His voice was loud, interrupting his wife, who was greeting Lisa Davies.

Ignoring Victoria's stern look, he continued.

"North of our library on the main floor you will come to a seemingly empty hallway, when you get to the wall, keep walking."

Septima looked slightly taken aback.

"Alfred, maybe we should be having this conversation elsewhere." The young woman stated, her comment seemingly gaining her favor with Victoria, who was doing her best to look as though she wasn't listening in on their conversation.

"Listen to the woman Alfred, you're becoming reckless." His wife chided, losing all pretense.

He grinned sheepishly before casting a 'notice-me-not' charm on himself and conjuring a vial before cutting his hand.

Filling the vial with his blood, he passed it to Septima Vectors outstretched hands.

' _Tell me I'm allowed to make any changes I deem appropriate.'_

"My family is the most important thing in my life, Septima. I don't know what I would do if I lost them."

She nodded encouragingly at him.

"If you think there are improvements to be made, I trust you to make them."

"It's beautiful, dear." Lady Parkinson cooed as she greedily admired the gold and emerald necklace he had given Astoria for her birthday.

"Draco." The bint said, turning to address him for the first time. "You don't let this one get away!"

' _You've never been a good liar, Lucy.'_

The power hungry woman had been trying to set him up with their only daughter for years, being so desperate as to propose a marriage contract to father after their second year.

Marriage contracts were a bit antiquated, even for father.

As if he could ever be interested in a cow like Pansy.

"She's a special one, Lady Parkinson." He responded with a hint of charm, placing his arm protectively around Astoria's waist, smiling when she leaned into him protectively.

"If you'll excuse me, Lady Parkinson." Astoria said with a smile. "I have duties to attend to."

Standing tall with her chest puffed out, she looped her arm in his as he allowed her to confidently lead him around the room.

"Thank you for doing this, Draco." She started apologetically, her eyes never leaving the small room in front of her.

The party hadn't been her idea, she would have been happier spending time alone with himself and her family.

Her voice was apologetic but her smile was radiant. His girlfriend could handle herself.

He chanced a glance at his father, who was talking casually with Lord Boot near the room's sole window.

' _I wonder what that's about?'_

"No need to apologize, Stori." He replied as she gently led him towards Lady Bones. "You have to be a gracious host."

"Lady Bones, Susan." Astoria greeted in lieu of responding to him. "Thank you for coming."

Susan greeted Astoria warmly, chatting with her for several seconds before exchanging a few obligatory words with him.

He was under no impression that those on the other side of the aisle approved of their relationship.

Though they certainly approved of Potter and Daphne.

Having spent the last half hour greeting people in the Greengrass's cramped receiving room, he was all-too-happy to be led from the room and out into the rolling hills that adorned the Greengrass property.

The pair passed a myriad of ice sculptures, which despite the summer heat were standing firm, giving the already pleasant walk an infusion of life.

As they slowly made their way up the winding path towards the valley where the party was taking place, they walked hand-in-hand in silence, enjoying the sweet smell of honeysuckle permeating the air from the fields of flowers on either side of them.

The valley was outlined with intricately carved, open-air wooden beams, giving the impression that the entire event was taking place in a large chapel.

The interior of the chapel contained several bars, a smattering of tables, and a large dance floor.

"Two of the white wine, please." He said as the couple approached the bar, offering the young bartender who seemed vaguely familiar a charming smile.

He saw the strawberry blonde's internal struggle and was secretly eager to see how she reacted.

Seeming to come to a decision, the bartender offered him a slightly defeated look before pouring him and Astoria rather small glasses of wine.

"Thank you." He said, throwing a galleon in the tin.

The Gryffindors would call his actions entitlement. There was no way a bartender working a birthday party of this prestige would deny him and the birthday girl a glass of wine, even though they were nowhere near seventeen.

Draco called it taking advantage of his station.

Astoria gave him a devilish grin as she glanced around the room quickly before taking a small sip.

"Nobody cares, Stori." He groaned theatrically. "It's your birthday!"

She sighed. "I don't want my parents to see!"

' _She's way too obsessed with her image.'_

That wasn't to say that he didn't understand her obsession. If he had had her affliction he'd cling to his strengths as well.

Seemingly giving in, she finished her wine two sips later before downing the rest of his glass in one go and jerking his hand towards the dance floor.

Turning to look at him over her right shoulder, Draco felt his heart skip a beat as he caught her slightly tipsy smile and rose-colored cheeks, the alcohol already affecting her small frame.

"You owe me a dance, Draco! And I'm here to collect!"

He rolled his eyes in faux disappointment as they made their way to the dance floor, laughing in unison as he allowed Astoria to lead him in a clumsy dance around the floor.

With the song coming to an end Astoria adopted a pout; "I'm getting thirsty, Draco!" She said, batting her eyelashes prettily.

He smiled as he stepped away, making his way to the bar through the throngs of people.

He felt a pair of eyes on him and glanced up to see Professor Vector barely containing a glare directed at him.

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. The wicked woman had all but accused him of obliviating his girlfriend.

"Two glasses of white, please." He said, raising his voice so the bartender could hear him.

She gave him a quick nod before handing him two glasses as he placed another gallon in the tin.

Father had always stressed the importance of generosity. Generosity led to relationships, and relationships led to results.

Sticking to the outskirts of the party he made his way back towards his girlfriend, who was chatting animatedly with the head of Ravenclaw.

Sensing his presence, Vector looked up, directing her gaze towards a figure behind him.

' _Potter.'_ He guessed as Daphne's familiar perfume made itself known.

Vector greeted Potter and Daphne kindly before greeting him stiffly and excusing herself.

He felt himself exhale as the attractive witch walked away. The woman was as dangerous as they came, his father had said before the party.

" _Her skillset could be a threat to us."_ He had said, even if he hadn't elaborated.

His father had been serious in his proclamation, leaving him to wonder what he knew.

Her empty glass gave Septima an excuse to walk away from the tipsy birthday girl, deciding to allow the child her fun on her special day.

Passing the bar, Septima made her way up the beautifully decorated pathway and back towards the large house at the bottom of the hill.

"Septima!" A musical voice interrupted her mission as she crossed into the homes large receiving room, causing her to adopt a polite look.

"Victoria!" She replied happily, greeting Lady Greengrass with an equal amount of enthusiasm, idly noticing that the woman's upper lip was stained a dark red.

' _Like mother like daughter.'_ She thought, amused at her observation.

"Thank you so much for coming, Septima." Her words came out slurred. "You mean so much to Harry, and he means so much to us!"

The older woman swayed slightly, placing her left hand on the beige wall to support herself.

"Thank you for having me, Victoria. It's been an absolutely beautiful day."

Her answer was sincere. It had been a beautiful day, and the patrons looked as though they were enjoying themselves.

The older woman offered her a drunken smile.

"It has, hasn't it?" She roared, causing Septima to wince at the woman's volume. "I have to go, excuse me." Victoria Greengrass said, ending their conversation abruptly as she walked on by.

' _So do I, Victoria, So do I.'_

A moment later she was standing in front of the entrance to a library.

Casting a few hopeful diagnostics, she frowned.

' _It was worth a shot.'_ It was a longshot to think that she would be able to crack the wards surrounding the library without triggering the security system at large.

Still, she smiled as she walked right on by, her speed never waning as she passed through the wall at the end of the hall and into a dim room with a large ruby at its center.

' _Their protections are atrocious.'_

Quickly she got to work, ripping through the top layer of wards with ease before finding what she was looking for.

' _Bingo.'_ She thought as she removed the vial of Alfreds blood from her breast pocket, pouring the contents over the ward structure.

An emerald green glow emitted from the ruby, causing her to smile.

Twenty minutes later she had added the necessary permissions to the wards, before leaving the keystone and heading back towards the library.

"Alfred, a word?"

Lucius Malfoy's familiar drawl from around the corner interrupted the second part of her mission and caused alarms to go off in her mind as she quickly abandoned her plan to hear what the slippery man had to say.

Disillusioning herself before silencing her feet, Septima crept towards the pair, groaning in frustration as Lucius erected a privacy bubble to cover their conversation.

Quietly she removed an ear on a string, a strange device she had confiscated from the Weasley twins that somehow circumvented most privacy wards.

Lucius and Alfred were standing in a bright study, each with a glass of brandy in their hand.

"What is it Lucius?" The taller man stated his voice oddly vacant.

"How is Astoria's treatment going?"

' _What does Malfoy know?'_

Making up her mind, Septima directed her focus back to Greengrass.

' _Be truthful.'_ She directed Alfred, startling him slightly.

She could only issue a directive if her victim was in her line of sight, Alfred seemingly knew this as he tried in vain to fight the order.

"The healers say she'll make a full recovery by the end of the summer." He rushed out a minute later, his response strained and robotic.

Lucius nodded in sympathy, but she was able to detect a hint of nervousness in his posture.

"As you know -" Lucius began slowly, his words screamed caution, as though he was trying to avoid making a mistake.

"- my connections in this world are far-reaching, and not always glamorous." Alfred nodded in recognition, seemingly giving Lucius a jolt of confidence.

"I have heard, from several _reliable_ sources that there is a spy at Hogwarts."

Septima tensed.

' _I have to do something.'_ Alfred couldn't find out her secret, even if he was under her control, it wasn't worth the risk.

Reaching out to Alfred's mind she came to a hasty conclusion.

' _Tell him you want to talk later, somewhere more private.'_

Alfred's eyes got wide.

"Not hear, Lucius." He whispered, his eyes darting around the room. "Meet me in my private study after dinner, we can talk there."

Lucius made to retort but Alfred put his hand up to stop him.

"I'm late for dinner."

Lucius seemed to consider his next steps for a long moment before smiling softly.

"I'm not sure it is wise, Alfred, what I have to say will only take a moment."

Alfred's face grew red in anger; "it can wait, Lucius! They're waiting for me out back."

Alfred stormed out of the room, Septima on his heels unseen.

' _Take a right and pause.'_

Alfred slowed considerable, doing as he was directed as she dropped her charms, making sure to remain eye contact.

Reaching into her pocket he handed the man several vials before giving him specific instructions, and walking away.

She walked purposefully towards the bartender; a stringy looking strawberry blonde with forgettable features.

"A word, ma'am."

Her tone was polite but her eyes roared with anger.

The older girl trembled slightly, but obliged her nonetheless.

"No more wine for those two." Daphne said, pointing towards her sister and the ferret she was sitting next to.

The bartender didn't say a word, but nodded in affirmation.

' _Drunk at her fourteenth birthday party. The nerve of that girl.'_

If she was being honest with herself, she was more jealous than upset, a memory of herself and a drunken Lily from the previous summer pushing itself into her mind.

She frowned as she glanced back at the table, her attention drifting elsewhere.

' _Where the hell is he this time?'_ She loved her father, but the man was always late.

Seeing Septima passing by the bar she shouted out to her.

"SEPTIMA!" The older woman paused, turning around to greet her with a smile.

"Have you seen my father?"

Septima frowned, her eyes darting towards their table briefly.

"Last I saw him he was being dragged away by Lord Malfoy." She stated contemplatively. "He would know."

Taking a glance around she couldn't find the blonde haired man either.

"Thanks." Daphne said distractedly before turning to head back to their table.

Her worry disappeared as her father appeared at the bar.

"Dad!"

Her father turned towards her with a smile.

"Daphne!" He shouted merrily. "Would you like a glass of champagne?"

She pondered the offer momentarily before seeing her sister plant a sloppy kiss on Draco's cheek out of the corner of her eye.

"No thank you."

Her dad looked slightly put out, as though he wanted to say something more, but settled for nodding his head sharply instead.

"Three glasses of champagne, please."

She idly noticed how her father had seemingly forgotten to order a glass for Draco and grinned.

The previously threatened bartender appeared to glance at her briefly before fetching the ordered flutes of champagne.

' _I tried.'_

Returning to the table she waited quietly for a minute before her father returned, passing around flutes to her mother and sister.

"Wait for the toast, girls." Her father said with half a laugh.

Astoria eyed him with mirth. "If you say so, dad."

The talking throughout the area came to a halt when her father tapped his silver fork on his crystal champagne flute, calling attention to himself.

He waited several long moments for the chatter to stop before beginning with his speech.

"Thank you all for coming."

Daphne tuned him out in favor of wrapping her foot around Harry's.

From next to her Harry smiled serenely at her actions, his eyes never leaving her father, giving the impression that he was paying rapt attention to his every word.

She knew better.

"Astoria, of course, is my baby…" Her father droned on.

"I wish he'd hurry up." She heard Astoria mutter to her mother softly.

Her mother stifled her laugh. "He does like to listen to himself talk, doesn't he?"

She grinned at their antics, having long since gotten used to them as her father also paid them no mind.

"She's sweet, kind, and incredibly smart. Here's to another happy, healthy year. Here's to you Astoria!"

Daphne joined her parents and sister in clinking her water glass against their flutes of champagne.

In unison the four took sips of their drinks to the sound of applause around them.

Smiling as she turned towards her sister, she immediately realized something was wrong.

Next to her Astoria was scratching at her throat, her gums beginning to bleed as her front teeth fell out and into the back of her throat, causing her sister to choke violently.

To her right her parents found themselves in a similar fashion, her father beginning to bleed profusely from his nose as well as his mouth.

She blocked out the horrified screams around her and watched helplessly as she held Astoria, who was now violently coughing blood on Daphne's face.

Daphne heard a clunk as her mother dropped to the floor convulsing violently in a thick pool of her own blood.

' _No, no, no. This can't be happening.'_ She thought in panic, as the familiar effects of the poison she had brewed played out in front of her.

She felt herself being thrown aside as Harry rushed passed her and to Astoria a bezoar in his hand.

Her entire family was convulsing violently on the ground now, bleeding from their mouths and ears as trails of bloody tears rolled down the sides of their faces, all three wearing the same pained, and horrified look.

' _A bezoar can't stop this.'_ She thought, time slowing down as Harry tried in vain to shove a bezoar down Astoria's throat in a vain attempt to save her sisters life.

The convulsing slowed leaving three dead, still twitching bodies in their place.

* * *

"Septima!" The elderly warlock greeted her warmly.

Her eyes lit up in surprise at the greeting - she hadn't expected to see Albus at something as mundane as an auction for rare spirits.

"Albus." She returned, a smile in her voice.

Her reaction seemed to set him at ease, causing her to let go of a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.

"I had no idea you were a connoisseur, Headmaster."

She could tell he was smiling through his thick, white beard.

"Yes, yes." He said dismissively. "I do enjoy a nice chardonnay from time to time, but I'm here for the Bowmore."

Externally she nodded her head in understanding, but internally she was preparing to flee.

"Scotch, professor?"

The bottle of W & J Mutter's Bowmore that sat on the ledge above Martha's fireplace had once belonged to her late husband, a man who Albus had had killed during the last war.

The headmaster let out an exaggerated sigh. "I have made Martha several offers for that exquisite bottle over the years, only to be rebuked each time."

She very much doubted that he and Martha had spoken. Martha couldn't stand the zany old man, holding him responsible for her husband's death.

"If I had known you two had been so close, I would have had you put in a word with her years ago."

Septima kept her face blank

She knew she shouldn't have goaded Pomona during the dueling match, now she was paying for it.

She schooled her features into a mask of vulnerability as she began to nervously twirl her hair on her fingers.

"Yes. I had meant to mention that." She added a tremor to her voice for good measure.

Big, bad Albus Dumbledore famously used observation to guide his intuition, his ego wouldn't let him believe he was capable of misjudging people.

The gaze through his half-moon spectacles was intense, and she fought the desperate urge to run.

Casting a quick privacy bubble, Septima let her shoulders slump.

"I wasn't trying to keep it a secret, if that's what you're implying." She said quietly, her eyes never leaving his.

Dumbledore prided himself on digging out the truth, but he had become complacent over the years.

"What is your relationship with the Yaxley family?" He asked, cutting to the point.

The fact that _anyone_ still carried that last name was a source of controversy on the Isles, particularly after they had fervently supported first Grindelwald and then Voldemort.

Her mother had spent years working in their mansion, doing the work normally reserved for house elves, earning a meager living to supplement the earnings of her father.

It hadn't been uncommon, at the time, for lower class witches to take up employment in households who refused to use _creatures_ to maintain their homes.

"My mother used to work for Martha." She answered honestly. "After my parents were killed, I had nothing. Martha Yaxley took pity on me. When I wasn't in school, I worked in their household."

Albus Dumbledore's gaze was intense as he searched her for deception.

' _He won't find any.'_ She was telling him the variation of the truth that he desperately wanted to hear.

"I didn't tell you, sir, because I know how that family is perceived, but gold is hard to come by when you're an orphan, and Hogwarts isn't cheap."

He gave her a soft nod.

"Are you two still close?"

' _We had lunch this afternoon.'_

"We exchange pleasantries when we cross paths, but I haven't had a proper conversation with her in years."

Albus continued to stare at her intensely as she met his gaze.

They stood like that for several moments until the older man smiled.

"Thank you for your honesty, Septima. Will you be at the next Order meeting?"

"Of course."

The old man smiled once more. "I'll see you there, then."

With that, the legendary wizard turned on his heel before leaving the parlor without bothering to even look at the bottle of Bowmore.

* * *

She laid perfectly still with her eyes shut, hoping that she would simply drift back to sleep. It was a fool's errand, she knew that, yet she still tried.

' _Maybe Harry can give me another dreamless sleep potion?'_

In the week since her family was murdered Daphne hadn't left the room she was occupying at Grimmauld Place, spending the few hours she spent awake crying to herself helplessly, greeting those who came to console her with violence.

A soft knocking roused her from her thoughts as Harry took a timid step into her room.

"I'm not going to curse you, I swear." She said, exhaustion clinging to her voice.

He didn't look completely convinced, and she didn't blame him, she had said the same thing yesterday, only to curse him a moment later.

He had fled and she hadn't seen him since, he had even sent Kreacher to deliver her her dreamless sleep potion.

Harry looked understated in his black robes with silver trim.

' _Not something we gave him for Christmas.'_

She wondered if that was done on purpose for her, or if it was just a coincidence.

Harry's face looked tired and worn from his training, but the rest of him looked fantastic. Like one of the quidditch players from Lily's old calendar.

She felt ashamed at her own appearance next to him.

Frizzy hair and the smell of must and sweat floated from her body while the bags under her bloodshot eyes weren't the result of a lack of sleep.

She was scared to move on from that day, as though every act from here-on-out would be an event she got to experience at the cost of their lives.

Harry didn't say anything, enveloping her in a tight hug instead.

The embrace broke the dam as she cried heavily into his shoulder for several minutes.

"You can, you know – curse me, I mean – if you want." His voice was confused and more than a little unsure, yet she found his words to be oddly comforting.

"It's not you I want to curse." Her voice cracked from disuse as she slowly pushed herself away.

"It's Malfoy."

" _He was with Lord Malfoy."_ That's what Septima had said shortly before.

' _You caught Draco learning the 'obliviation charm' and by that weekend McGonagall was dead.'_

Is that what happened? Were Astoria's efforts to reverse one of Malfoy's obliviations really to blame for the annihilation of her family? How would he have accessed her poison?

' _Astoria?'_ A vial of her poison had gone missing from her and Harry's room, and she had had access to it.

' _Why?'How?'_

She felt the anger building in her chest as her right hand clutched her wand.

She wished she could air her frustrations to Harry, but he seemed to be ignoring the evidence she had presented him with.

Letting out a frustrated scream, Daphne unleashed an overpowered bludgeoner at the nearly empty bookshelf in the corner, turning the piece of furniture to sawdust.

"Not bad." Harry said, offering her a smile he repaired the bookshelf wordlessly.

He put an arm around her, sitting them both down on the edge of the bed.

"Healer Ogletree is coming to speak to me today, I'm sure she'd be happy to speak to you as well."

She frowned and ignored the question. A mind healer was the last thing she needed.

"Is Moody still around? I think I'd rather talk to him."

He rolled his eyes. "You need to talk about it."

"I _need_ to kill someone!" She snapped back.

In the back of her mind she was happy that she was no longer using the " _you have no idea what I'm going through!"_ argument. That one seemed far less effective.

Harry could relate to having the desire to kill his enemies, at the very least.

His bright emerald eyes gave her a serious look.

"It doesn't make a difference, you know."

Seeing her quizzical look he elaborated. "Indiscriminate killing. It doesn't make up for my parents, Hermione, Flitwick, McGonagall, Sirius, or Lily, and it won't make up for the loss of your family either."

She snarled. "You're wrong." She spat with as much vitriol as she could muster. "It does make a difference."

Daphne stood up, feeling more energized than she had in a week.

"Those four men you killed at the World Cup." She started with a smirk. "They can't hurt us anymore, and neither can the Carrows. _That_ made a difference, didn't it?"

"It won't make _you_ feel better though, not in the long run." He retorted.

She shrugged, she could worry about that later.

"It's not about feeling better." She stated with more conviction than she had felt in a week, the beginnings of a plan beginning to form in her mind.

Harry began to respond but she cut him off.

"I have to get ready to train." Her response was blunt and final, stopping the boy-who-lived in his tracks.

Turning from him she made her way to her wardrobe and began inspecting several battle robes.

"I'll see you at lunch."

Behind her she heard a sigh followed by the gentle closing of a door, leaving her alone once more.

* * *

She was only mildly surprised to see her lunch companion already sitting at their table when she arrived.

"Harry!" She said, loud enough to draw the attention of the neighboring tables.

The boy met her gaze and returned her smile, she noticed that it seemed slightly forced.

"Fleur." He replied, pulling her chair out for her.

Taking a seat, she examined the Hogwarts dueling champion with interest.

He'd filled out his frame since she had last interacted with him in the Hogwarts library, standing several centimeters taller with a more chiseled jaw and broader shoulders.

' _I'll have to get a picture with him for Gabriel.'_

Her sister would tell anyone who listened that she wasn't interested in Britain's next Dark Lord, but she knew better - Gabrielle's reaction to the news that she would be having lunch with him on this trip told her that much.

"You look as beautiful as always."

"You don't look bad yourself." She smiled honestly, returning the compliment. "Gabrielle was jealous when I told her I'd be meeting with you, she will be more so once she sees pictures."

The younger boy took the compliment in stride, disappointing her slightly.

' _Not even a little blush, Harry?'_

"How is Gabrielle?"

Fleur gave him a grim smile. "She has been consoling Marci as they search for your friend."

She could see the smallest glimpse of despair hidden in his eyes and she felt sorry for him.

The public annihilation of the Greengrass family had made international news, leaving the populace to pour over the parties guest list for hints on who could have committed such a crime.

Although she had been officially cleared as a suspect by authorities, as the only survivor Daphne Greengrass had faced accusations.

" _With the tragic murders of Alfred, Victoria, and Astoria Greengrass the family fortune - as well as their Wizengamot seat - go to Daphne Queenie Greengrass (15). The death means that the Greengrass vote likely falls under control of her longtime boyfriend, Harry Potter. Could young love have drove her to do the unspeakable?"_

Smartly, Harry and Daphne had filed a lawsuit against the 'Daily Prophet' which seemed to dissuade them from publishing further gossip.

With that tragedy still fresh in their minds, people had seemed to have forgotten the only son of the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot had disappeared.

Harry nodded sadly. "Have there been any new developments on your end?"

She shook her head; "unfortunately not."

Terry Boot went to read a letter from his girlfriend down on the beach and never returned.

To the best of her knowledge that was all that was known about the boys disappearance.

Marci was beside herself with guilt over a letter she didn't send.

"How's Daphne?"

Harry took a bite of his salad, giving him a few seconds to compose his thoughts.

She could almost see the indecision in his guarded eyes. He _wanted_ to be open with her.

"As well as can be expected. She's either crying, sleeping, or training. I'm trying to convince her to see a mind healer."

He couldn't, and she understood that, they were virtually strangers.

"That's to be expected, I guess."

They fell into an awkward silence for several seconds. Both unsure of what to do next.

It was Harry who spoke first.

"What's your father have you doing in London?"

As of now she was working as a junior financial analyst for one of her father's partners.

"Henrique has me taking notes at his meetings with Gringotts." She said with a shrug.

It was rather mundane, and she would much rather spend her time pursuing something else; but the time wasn't right and she wouldn't settle for a second class education when she had already been accepted by the best.

They chatted pleasantly for a while longer before falling into a comfortable silence as they ate.

Her eyes drifted towards an advertisement reflecting in the mid-afternoon sun a ways down the Alley.

"When does your cousin fight?"

She didn't feel the need to specify, and he didn't need her to; mid-July in London meant the return of the London Invitational.

"Tonight." He replied, a sinister look on his face. "She's determined to win it this year."

She was about to respond when his mood changed in an instant.

"It was at this tournament two summers ago where Sirius and I first met Alfred and Daphne." He said reflectively.

She mimic'd his mood, her mind in overdrive as she harkened back to their previous conversation.

"Is this around the same time your godfather was obliviated?"

His eyes lit up as if realizing something for the first time.

"It would fit the window." He rubbed his chin in contemplation as he spoke. "Do you have a theory?"

She didn't, not really, so she shrugged.

"No, I don't. But the tournament is busy, it would be easy to oversee something you shouldn't."

He nodded along in thought as he paid the bill before turning to face her, wearing a look on his face she hadn't seen from him; as though he was re-evaluating her.

"You're not wrong Fleur." This time his smile was more natural, more genuine. "Stay in touch."

Before she had time to respond, he was gone.

' _Damn.'_ She thought to herself. ' _I didn't get that picture.'_

* * *

They stood about fifty meters a part, the younger man sporting several visible cuts and bruises, was bent over with his hands on his knees panting.

"Would you like to take a break, Harry?" Dumbledore inquired.

' _Is he mocking me?'_ He thought with a frown.

"No." He said as he tried to catch his breath. "Just give me a minute to recover and we can go again."

Off to the side he heard Moody guffaw loudly. "Glutton for punishment, aren't ya boy?"

"You're wasting your time, Albus!" The grizzled auror shouted in amusement. "This boy is years away from being worthy of your tutelage."

"Recent events have forced my hand, Alastor."

' _I'm right here, you know.'_

Since her narrow victory in the London Invitational, Tonks had taken a "medical break" from dueling, leaving him without a coach on a day-to-day basis.

Fortunately Mad-Eye, Snape, and Dumbledore had picked up the slack.

The three men had wildly different styles.

Mad-Eye the immovable object employed a series of shields, only dropping them to counter.

Snape fought more like he and Daphne; relentlessly aggressive and always moving.

Dumbledore - well he hadn't lasted long enough against him to determine the old man's fighting style.

" _Creative."_ That's how Tonks had described it.

"Ready when you are."

Dumbledore's serene smile was the only indication he had that the headmaster had heard him.

' _He's going to attack quick and fast.'_

The previous three attempts Harry had yet to last more than three spells.

He barely had time to finish his thought before a pale purple light was racing towards him.

Diving to the side, he rolled as he hit the ground, providing him temporary shelter behind a large boulder.

' _I have to return fire.'_

He had long since given up beating the old man outright, choosing instead to set his sights a little lower.

Before he could return fire, the boulder he was hiding behind was reduced to dust.

' _Shit.'_

Staying crouched, he attempted to run, only to slip in the mud.

His stumble likely prolonged the duel as another beam of light landed in the spot he would have ended up.

The pair were dueling on an island he had inherited from Sirius, one of four that made up the small archipelago that dotted the north sea and was currently being used by the Order of the Phoenix as a base of operations.

Seeing his chance, Harry unleashed a series of bone-breakers and rupturing curses at his opponent.

Albus Dumbledore batted them away easily before a series of quick wand movements gave life to a pair of boulders and a tree.

The transfiguration masters animations came barrelling down on him, hellbent on his destruction.

' _Do I take care of the distraction or counter?'_

A semi-circle with a downward slash hurled three ice spears towards Dumbledore, who easily melted them with an amused look on his face.

' _What the hell has him so amused?'_

He found out a second later as a tree branch smacked into his side, sending him soaring through the air and landing on his left shoulder with a loud crunch.

He howled in pain as Dumbledore and Moody casually walked over to him.

"Well, boy. Heal yourself so we can tell you where you fucked up."

Healing his shoulder with a couple of quick flicks of the wrist, he got to his feet slowly before conjuring a large leather chair for himself and sitting down.

The other two followed suit a second later.

"Your improvement from duel to duel is impressive, Harry." Albus said kindly, much to the chagrin of Moody.

"You're too soft on him, Albus!" The heavily scarred man snapped. "Potter could be a decent dueler, but he still makes far too many childish mistakes."

"What did you do wrong?" Moody asked, acknowledging his presence at long last.

He thought for a moment.

' _I didn't try and bat away the spell, I kept moving, I…'_

He groaned.

"I shouldn't be using rupturing curses in a duel of this caliber yet."

His tutors looked pleased at his deduction.

"You take a millisecond too long to cast that spell." Dumbledore replied in agreement. "When facing off against an opponent of a higher caliber than yourself, speed and confidence are far more important than your ability to send potentially lethal curses."

He nodded his head in agreement. It was feedback he had received before, maybe this time it would stick.

Checking his watch, Albus frowned lightly. "We can pick this up tomorrow, gentlemen." He said turning to each in kind. "But unless my watch is incorrect, we are late to a meeting."

"Thank you, Harry." He said to the young man holding the door open for him as the three entered the small cottage on the archipelago's most hospitable island.

The cottage had been won in a poker game by Pollux Black some fifty years prior, and hadn't seen much use since, leaving the Order to inhabit a much less practical location than he had hoped.

' _The Black townhome in London would be much more practical.'_ He thought to himself, trying to recall the exact address.

' _Harry must have placed the property under a new fidelius.'_ Despite the inconvenience it presented him, he approved of the young man's precautionary measures.

Harry smile kindly even as the childs eyes glanced around the room suspiciously, his increasing paranoia keeping him on his toes.

"Of course, Albus." He replied loud enough for several Order members to hear him.

The inclusion of a minor in his vigilante group had caused no small amount of uproar amongst the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix, with the vast majority either believing Harry was too young, or too dangerous to join the group.

"Good evening everyone." He started warmly, letting his eyes drift over the Weasley family, the Diggory's, Oliver Wood, Marlene McKinnon, Septima, Severus and the others who had found the time to attend this meeting.

"Does anyone have any opening announcements?" He asked, following the familiar routine he had designed for these meetings during the first war.

A tired looking man with worn, dirty clothes raised his hand.

"Yes Remus?"

Since his friends death, the werewolf had spent the majority of his time wallowing in self-pity, having only recently rediscovered his will to live after Melisa Boot had requested his help.

"Voldemort has sent delegates to the Scottish packs to negotiate their joining his side."

Despite Minister Nott's assertions to the contrary, it had become common knowledge that it was Voldemort, not Bellatrix who was responsible for the recent attacks.

"How did they receive them?"

Tired eyes seemed to examine a spot behind him.

"Voldemort killed Liam Bushwood's parents, I doubt they greeted him with open arms."

"What do you think they will do?" Bill asked, his long red hair flowing down the center of his back, just passed his shoulders.

Order meetings, Albus had found, were more constructive when everyone felt empowered to join in the discussion at any juncture. Something that, to his delight, he had not known when he was a teacher.

Turning to look at him, Remus offered the curse breaker an emotionless mask.

"I think most would, if offered some incentives."

' _All the more reason Melisa's research is so important.'_

"Would a cure change their perspective?" Bill followed up hopefully, asking what he himself had been wondering.

"It would remove some of their leverage. It's difficult to play the victim if lycanthropy can be cured as if it were Dragon Fever."

Albus nodded his head in thought before responding. "How are Melisa's experiments coming along?"

Remus frowned; "with her son missing, there hasn't been any movement of late."

The abduction of Terry Boot had, thus far, been kept surprisingly quiet. The expected news coverage having been overshadowed by the murders of the Greengrass family.

"Severus, do you have any information on that unfortunate situation?"

Severus glanced around the room with mistrust, his gaze landing on Harry, offering him a sneer.

"The Dark Lord has him, I am sure of it. But I do not know where or why."

"Some spy you are." Harry mumbled, causing Septima to smirk and Snape to glare.

"That's enough, Harry." Albus chided gently.

He had hoped that after almost a year of dueling with each other the pair would have grown to respect one another.

He had been wrong.

Harry turned his anger towards him. "No, it's not Dumbledore." He spat, causing Molly Weasley to gasp in shock. "Why have a spy if he can't deliver information? Or are you just here to spy on us for your real master?"

Severus smirked. "Your words wound me, Potter."

He sighed; he hated when he had to intervene.

"That's enough!" He stated, raising his voice slightly, causing the room to fall silent. "Severus, if you hear anything, please let me know."

His potions master offered him a curt nod.

"Are there any suspects in the Greengrass murders?" Kingsley Shacklebolt added from the back.

Next to him Harry brimmed with anger, his emotions busting through his mental barriers.

The press had been running daily updates on the investigation, yet at this point the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had no solid leads.

"Daphne is under the impression that Lucius Malfoy carried out the murders." Harry replied, drawing the attention away from Albus and to the intimidating teenager to his right.

Severus guffawed in disbelief causing Harry to point turn his attention to the man.

"Your best friend kills families for fun, Snivellus. Your disbelief doesn't change facts."

Severus didn't rise to the bait, raising one eyebrow instead.

"Yes, Potter I've heard. Vector supposedly saw Lucius talking to Alfred right before his death, he must be the killer." Snape deadpanned.

Septima's eyes narrowed as Severus questioned her credibility.

"One of many reasons why I think it may have been Lucius, Severus." She responded a touch of warning in her tone.

"For all we know, Septima, you murdered the Greengrass family and made up your little story."

Septima stood up, wand out and pointed between her colleagues eyes. "I'm not the one masquerading about the country in a mask, Snape."

"ENOUGH!" Albus yelled, sick of the bickering. "As of right now, all we have are theories.

Septima, if you can find any evidence to corroborate your assertion that Lucius murdered the Greengrass family, then I will personally lead the efforts to bring him to justice."

Next to him it was apparent that Harry didn't need to see anymore proof - confident in his belief that the Malfoy's were responsible.

' _Which means Daphne believes that as well.'_ He would have to keep a lookout for any retribution they may take.

"Moving on…"

* * *

Slowly Terry pulled on his robes, making sure there were no wrinkles or dirt before turning his attention to his hair.

Unable to get it to stay flat with his hands, Terry glanced nervously to the top shelf of his desk.

He was only supposed to use his wand in emergency situations and he wasn't sure Sergei would find this to be an emergency.

' _Appearance is important to him.'_

Hand shaking, Terry slowly opened the drawer to reveal a plain looking piece of mahogany.

As he entwined his fingers with the wood he felt a comforting warmth rush through his body, causing him to smile a genuine smile for one of the first times in weeks.

He fixed his appearance with a quick spell before returning his wand to its rightful place and exiting the windowless room.

"Good evening, Terry."

Sergei's accented English greeted him as he joined the older man at the dining room table.

"Good evening, sir." He replied respectfully, bowing his head slightly as he did so, making sure that he didn't meet the man's eyes.

"I hope you don't mind, but I used my wand on my robes and hair a few minutes ago."

A triumphant look briefly flashed across the Russians face.

"Thank you for your honesty, Terry."

He exhaled slowly, happy that his actions avoided another beating.

"I'd like to continue our conversation from last night, if that's okay with you?"

He nodded in affirmation. They had spent the last several nights discussing the Boot family, and Terry's time at Hogwarts.

"Yes sir, but I'm afraid I don't know any more on my mothers research."

Sergei shook his head slightly. "Not that, Terry." He said before taking a sip of his red wine.

"You had mentioned to me that Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass had a way of getting information on Death Eater activities?"

He began to shake involuntarily; ' _did I say that?'_ It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to remember the exact details of most of their conversations.

Sergei was no Death Eater, he was certain of that much. The man was a victim of You Know Who, just like him.

"I think they do, but -"

The lie hadn't fully left his lips when the familiar pain associated with the cruciatus curse struck him, causing him to scream out in agony.

Through his blurred vision he could make out Sergei's sadistic smirk.

"You mustn't lie to me, Terry." Sergei's voice remained calm as he dropped the curse after a few seconds. "You're not the only one who is skilled in the mind arts."

' _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.'_

Why did he lie to the man? Sergei was going to get the information he was looking for, one way or another. Lying to him only brought pain.

"I'm sorry sir. You're right."

Sergei's kind smile was back. "That's okay, Terry. Your loyalty to your friends is commendable. But my family's life, and in turn your life, is dependent on the Dark Lord finding answers to these little questions."

After a nasty beating Sergei had confided in him that the Dark Lord had kidnapped his own family, promising to return them once Sergei finished interrogating Terry.

He shut his eyes briefly, knowing that if Harry ever found out about this conversation, their friendship would be over.

"Every Saturday morning at Hogwarts Harry and Daphne have breakfast with Theodore Nott."

Across from him, the other man's eyes widened and his mouth hung slightly open. For the first time since his arrival Sergei seemed to be surprised.

"Minister Notts son?"

Terry nodded. "Theo claims his father isn't a Death Eater, but I think we both know that's a lie. Octavius Nott feeds his son information on Death Eater activities in exchange for the support of the Black, Potter, and Greengrass families."

They ate in silence for several minutes before Sergei spoke once more.

"Thank you, Terry."

He smiled at the praise.

"May I be excused, sir?"

Sergei returned his smile.

"Elf!" He yelled, summoning the wrinkly green creature to his side. "Show our guest back to his cage."

"Haven't I been good, sir?" Terry said, a hint of desperation clinging to his voice.

"You have, Terry." Sergei replied. "But you were only good after being caught in a lie."

He frowned and Sergei continued. "However, if our conversation at breakfast tomorrow goes better, I'll allow you to spend the morning outside, exploring my property."

His face perked up at the promise.

' _I haven't been outside in weeks!'_

"Thank you, sir. I won't let you down."

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you enjoyed my "Red Wedding" chapter.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** Still not making money from this.

 **AN:** Nearly 16k words! Enjoy!

* * *

The melodic ticking of the large grandfather clock rang out in the background, keeping him fairly relaxed as he sipped his tea in the dim morning glow.

He shut his eyes, letting out a content sigh as the rising sun found its way through the arched windows of Grimmauld Place's surprisingly understated study.

Harry had always enjoyed these moments - the hour or so in the morning where he was awake but the day hadn't begun; giving him a sense of internal peace in his otherwise chaotic life.

Hearing the creak of footsteps, he sighed, the moment ruined as he abandoned his half-drank tea to greet whichever of his guests had risen first.

"Happy Birthday!" A soft voice said as he stepped into the hallway adjacent to the kitchen.

Turning towards the familiar voice, Daphne's lips met his before he could respond.

"Thanks, Daphne."

She was dressed in a simple, pale pink morning robe, her messy, straw blonde bangs obscuring her sad green eyes.

She had yet to return home in the month since her family had been murdered, not that he could blame her.

A lack of places to go had initially fueled his own decision to stay at Grimmauld Place after the death of Sirius, however as time had gone on he had found a troublesome peace in the home that provided a variety of memories – both good and bad – of his life with Sirius.

' _At least she's speaking to Healer Ogletree.'_

An improvement, and a decision she had had to come to herself.

Truth-be-told he was dreading the day he would have to accompany her home to face her own demons. Unsure of what to expect when Daphne was ultimately confronted with the memory of that horrific day.

Pushing the unpleasant thoughts from his mind he offered her a smile before calling for Kreacher.

"Breakfast for two, please." He said, forcing kindness into his voice, hoping to remain civil towards the Black family's unpleasant elf.

"Make that four." A groggy new voice called out from the kitchen doorway. "And one hangover cure."

Turning around, he smiled at the disheveled look of Tonks, her purple hair containing specks of _something_ in it as she failed to maintain her dignity.

"It's bad form to drink more than the birthday boy, Tonks." A smiling Septima offered from beside her.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" His professor followed up with a pretty smile, giving him a warm hug.

"The birthday boy didn't drink." Tonks replied with a whimper, downing the foul looking potion handed to her by Kreacher in one go.

"Then neither should you." Septima chortled with a smile, causing Tonks to roll her eyes as she fixed her appearance.

"That's no fun!" Tonks retorted, offering him her own brief hug. "Happy birthday, by the way."

The quartette had spent the previous evening in quiet celebration, playing games while Tonks slowly got drunk off firewhisky.

The conversation turned to lighter topics as they ate before falling into a comfortable silence.

"Tonks." Daphne started, causing the purple-haired witch to choke on a half-eaten sausage.

Composing herself with a frown, the duelist turned towards his still haggard looking girlfriend.

"Do you have time to duel with me today?"

Tonks gave him an imperceptible glance causing him to give her a slight nod in affirmation.

"I'm free all afternoon."

Since the tragedy Daphne had thrown herself into her training with Tonks.

" _My time's not free, Harry! I empathize with her situation, but I have bills to pay."_

He had scoffed - it wasn't as though Tonks didn't have the money – but he readily met her demands on the condition that she didn't tell Daphne.

"I'm training with Dumbledore this afternoon, so it should work out nicely." He finished with a frown.

While the headmaster, and even Snape, would concede his improvement; he had been unable to land a spell on the elusive old man.

' _At least I've been able to fight back.'_

Three days a week they would face off on the small island in the North Sea, the headmaster hurling spells his way while he ran for his life, wondering who was benefiting more from the activity as Dumbledore unleashed his own frustration on him.

The disparity in talent had forced him to research more advanced defense options, which he in turn tested on his other tutors.

Snape had been the victim of his first breakthrough when Harry had redirected a blood boiling curse back towards the unsuspecting potions master, causing the man to howl in pain.

Redirecting spells was the natural evolution of deflection; requiring a greater daring and an impeccable control of one's own magic as he attempts to wrestle control of a spell from its caster.

The problem with attempting to redirect Dumbledore's spells, he noticed, was that the older man was stronger in his magic than Harry was in his, making it impossible to bend the man's spells to his will.

While the skill had proved useless against someone of Dumbledore's stature, it had continued to work wonders for him in his training with Snape, Moody, and Tonks.

"How much do you charge for these lessons, Tonks? My wand work is getting rusty." Septima butted in from beside her.

' _So much for not telling Daphne.'_

Tonks frowned before glancing at him, causing Harry to sigh.

"One hundred galleons a session." He replied in resignation.

He swore he saw a momentary smirk pass across Septima's face as she caught sight of Daphne's frown.

"A little too rich for my blood." Septima added with a small amount of despair, her smirk gone as soon as it had appeared.

"I didn't know that." Daphne replied, a false smile on her lips. "I'll have to make a trip to Gringotts then." She finished, shooting a glare his way.

He let out a sigh as he nervously ran a hand through his messy black hair. "I have to make a trip there this week anyways, we can go together."

Daphne gave him a terse nod.

"I can accompany the two of you, if you'd like?" Septima added, a sense of interest in her voice.

' _We don't need a chaperone, haven't we proven that much?'_

"No need, Septima." He added before turning to Tonks with a smile, missing the other woman's frustrated look. "As long as Tonks can wait a few days for her payment?"

The aforementioned woman frowned but accepted his offer. "As long as I get paid by the end of the week."

* * *

His body tingled in pleasure as the wards recognized his presence, presenting him with a wide gravel path and a well-manicured lawn, directing his gaze towards the large stone home in front of him.

Voldemort paused a moment, removing a small vial from his waist, he downed the contents in one.

The pepper up potion combined with the spike in energy he had received passing through the wards provided him with the stamina he needed to complete his relatively simple mission.

He paused to take in the rather large property, resisting the urge to pay a visit to the thestrals the Nott family kept in the stables.

' _After, perhaps.'_

The Nott's wealth was surpassed only by the Malfoy's, and much like their old friends, the Nott's enjoyed displaying it for all to see.

" _Octavius has been feeding Potter information through his son."_

The words had infuriated him before leaving him exhausted and craving confirmation.

Quietly stepping into the foyer, Voldemort quickly flicked his wrist, freezing the various portraits in their frames, preventing them from alerting his target.

Making his way up the grand staircase and to the Master wing, the dark lord easily discovered the man sleeping in his bed.

Resisting the urge to kill him outright, Voldemort stunned and bound the man, levitating him down the hall and out of the master's suite, back towards the heir's rooms.

Mimicking his actions a second time on the man's son, Voldemort repeated his actions a third time on Cantankerous Nott before escorting the three into the family study.

Voldemort paused, considering his next moves carefully. In his burst of rage he hadn't considered how he could best utilize the situation he now found himself in.

Coming to a decision, a cold smirk came over his face as he unfroze the Minister of Magic.

The man's eyes came to life with a sense of confusion before settling in to a look of terror as he recognized his situation.

The filth's terrified look gave Voldemort a third jolt of energy, supplementing the waning effects of his pepper up potion nicely.

The look didn't last, as resignation replaced Octavius's terror.

Deciding to skip the formalities, Voldemort let his fingernails dig deep into the man's forearms, causing Octavius to wince in pain as he looked the man in the eyes.

"Why, Octavius?"

He didn't feel the need to elaborate, Octavius knew his crime.

Voldemort was curious; the elder Theodore Nott had been one of Tom Riddle's first friends; for the man's son to betray him had enraged him.

For a moment the man appeared defiant before thinking better of it.

"Power, my lord." He said respectfully, resignation in his voice. Octavius Nott knew he was going to die.

He nodded solemnly, _'Bellatrix had been right_.' He should have eliminated the traitor months ago.

Tearing into the man's mind with reckless abandon, Voldemort sought information regarding Octavius's betrayal.

He dug for several moments before a particular conversation caused him to pause.

" _Three weeks before my father's death, Octavius. You were working in customs with Bellatrix. Do you remember the Dark Lord placing an order for a dragon's lung?"_

He watched the memory play out with interest, removing himself from the man's mind at the memories conclusion.

' _Lucius knows.'_ He thought to himself before quickly adding; _'Lucius may know.'_ It could be a coincidence.

Either way the news was disconcerting, he didn't need his two generals at each other's throats over such a trivial matter.

Diving back in, he felt Octavius's mind try and direct him towards a particular memory.

' _Why not.'_ He thought, following the man's direction on a whim.

He recognized the chandelier from the Nott study immediately.

" _What have you done?"_ Octavius Nott's voice quivered slightly as he addressed his son.

The boy stared back at his father with a detached defiance.

" _What's best for our family?"_

Octavius roared in anger, his wand in his hand immediately as he shot a curse at his only child.

The boy calmly stepped aside as Octavius regained control of his emotions.

" _You let them murder members of the Wizengamot, Theodore! Those weren't a bunch of mudbloods and blood traitors! My administration depends on their support!"_

His son shrugged with the same sense of detachment.

" _You let your lust for power cloud your judgement, father. Potter was never going to back you in the long run, the Dark Lord will."_

The memory ended and Voldemort was in the family study once more.

' _What's that about Phoenixes?'_ He thought, trying to remember what Horace Slughorn had recited all those years ago. _'Something good always comes from the ash?'_

With a flick he froze Octavius once more.

Another flick unfroze the child.

He watched with mild interest as the boy regained his senses, trembling in fear only slightly when he recognized his predicament.

He was both intrigued by the boy's lack of fear, and disappointed that he wouldn't reap the benefits.

"Interesting." He found himself saying.

The fifth-year-to-be ignored his pale, handsome features choosing to stare him directly in his red eyes instead.

' _Very interesting.'_

"My Lord?" The boy asked respectfully, still bound in front of him.

"Do you know why I'm here, child?"

His voice was barely above a whisper but kept the boys attention all the same.

Now free from his shackles, Theodore glanced around the room, first at his father, then at his uncle.

"I could guess, my lord."

He motioned for him to continue.

"I doubt that you appreciated my fathers continued betrayal."

Voldemort nodded. "I didn't appreciate your betrayal either."

When the patriarch of a family vowed fealty to a lord, he spoke for the entire family.

The first cracks in the boys mask began to show as he answered.

"As the heir of House Nott, I was duty bound to act as my lord saw fit."

The answer was robotic and well-rehearsed. A common defense among heirs who had a hand in their father's crimes, and one that had been historically accepted.

The defense had simultaneously allowed families to survive without fear of losing their familial wealth for individual crimes, while providing dark lords who preyed on humanities darker instincts more willing followers.

"What changed?"

If he was right, Voldemort wouldn't have to worry about retribution from the Nott family.

"His wishes went against the best wishes of the family."

Tom Riddle let out a charming, dangerous smile.

"What would those wishes be, _Lord_ Nott."

A look of greed and understanding passed through the boy, confirming Voldemort's hopes.

"To remain on the right side of history."

Quickly Voldemort conjured two identical daggers before turning on the child.

"Did you know your grandfather died fighting by my side?" He said conversationally, letting his fingers caress the sharp blade of one of the daggers.

"I've been told my grandfather Theodore was a great man." The boy responded.

Voldemort smiled, eyeing the Theodore again.

"Have you ever killed a man, Theodore?" His tone was conversational, as if discussing Quidditch scores or the weather.

The boy shook his head slightly, doing his best to hide his fear from him.

It was the anticipation, not the fear that fueled his fourth burst of energy.

"I was twelve when I made my first kills." He let out a dark chuckle as he recalled those filthy muggles falling to their deaths.

"There's nothing quite like it, watch."

He unfroze Cantankerous, showing restraint as he let the man get a hold of himself as his own anticipation began to build.

Cantankerous Nott was a cranky old coward who had been too scared to support him outright, his death would be of no consequence.

Grasping the dagger lightly he turned to Theodore once more.

There was a mixture of fear and excitement in the boy's body language.

' _Normal enough.'_

"Pay attention boy!" He snapped. "It's not as easy as it looks, to stab a man to death."

Handing the boy a dagger, Voldemort continued his instruction.

"Grip it tightly in your dominant hand."

The boy nodded in understanding, mimicking his own actions.

Voldemort tore the shirt off of Cantankerous Nott, exposing his wrinkled figure to the dim light.

"When stabbing a man through the heart, it is important that you avoid the breast plate that protects the heart, or else you could find yourself tired and frustrated." He said, slowly going through the motions of stabbing the child's great uncle through the heart.

Theodore was watching with a sense of fear and anticipation, driving Voldemort's own energy.

"Now watch." He said as he quickly plunged the dagger deep under the man's breast and through his heart, causing his former classmate to let out a final gasp as he pissed himself and died.

The resulting jolt of energy he felt had him feeling alive once more as a small pool of blood began to trickle down the dead man's chest.

"You don't want to remove the dagger unless you want to make a statement." He continued his lecture as his pupil observed in a state of horrified fascination.

"It's your turn." Voldemort said, unfreezing Octavius once more.

The Minister of Magic's eyes darted around the room, glancing from the body of Cantankerous, to himself, to his son.

Voldemort watched, letting his anticipation build once more as he watched the man's son stare at him with confliction.

"I don't have all night, boy. Kill him or you both die."

He had found that when killing for the first time, people liked having a justification to their actions, it made them feel as though they didn't have a choice in the matter.

Octavius nodded in resolution at his only son, seemingly giving him permission to end his life.

Theodore's arm trembled slightly before the boy calmed himself and mimicked Voldemort's own actions from a moment prior.

He felt another jolt of energy as he watched the life extinguish from his betrayers eyes.

The killer glanced at his father dispassionately once more before finding Voldemort's gaze.

"What now?" The boy got out, only the slightest hint of a tremble in his voice.

He offered the boy a charming smile before raising his wand.

"Morsmordre!"

The dark mark blasted through the roof of the manor, giving them an unobstructed view of the snake and skull dancing in the night sky.

Hesitantly, Theodore made to join him before Voldemort stopped him with a smile.

"Not yet, Theodore." He chided, turning to the body of the boy's father. "I want to make a statement."

He felt the boy shiver as he turned towards his dead father.

Finding the task to be more difficult than he thought, the child's face turned victorious as blood sprayed the area as Theodore successfully removed the dagger from his father's chest.

The boy made to move towards him once more before Voldemort moved to stop him again.

' _I'll have to visit the thestrals another time.'_ He thought with a frown, regretting how impulsive he had been with his mark.

"Tell me, Theodore. Do you know how to make an inferi?"

* * *

She observed her opponent silently from the shadows.

Tonks took aim and fired off a bone breaker.

Daphne moved to dodge, but was a hair too slow as the curse passed harmlessly through the illusion.

' _She won't be wrong next time.'_

Taking a deep breath, the blonde-haired prefect took aim before seamlessly transitioning into a brutal combination of cursed fireballs, bonebreakers, and organ exploding curses.

Caught by surprise, her tutor took the first bonebreaker in the left clavicle, letting out a muffled howl as the fierce woman batted away an organ exploding curse before redirecting several fireballs her way.

"You're getting better at predicting my movements!" Tonks shouted with glee.

She pirouetted gracefully to the side, conjuring a handful of badgers as she did so.

Daphne smirked victoriously at the surprised look on Tonks face at her use of conjuration.

' _Thank you, Harry.'_ She added silently, chancing a glance at her boyfriend who was observing off to the side.

With his help she had been able to incorporate conjuration into her practice duels with him in preparation for this moment.

Harry looked tired with a sad look in his eyes as he observed from behind the protective wards; a result of another session with Healer Ogletree, no doubt.

Tonks's surprised look lasted only a second as she slaughtered the little beasts before twirling her wand in a familiar pattern.

Taking a page from Harry's book, Tonks never lost focus as dozens of marbles began to orbit around her rapidly.

' _Ice cream always cheers him up.'_

He always found a way to cheer her up after meetings with the strangely intimidating healer, the least she could do is buy him ice cream after their trip to Gringotts.

Tonks hurled a dozen or so marbles her way, forcing her to conjure a brick wall.

The wall only held for a couple of seconds before being reduced to a pile of rubble.

Rolling forward, Daphne shot several spells towards the shield intent on turning the little balls of glass against her tutor to no avail.

In response Tonks sent the rest of the projectiles at her.

As her shields crumbled Daphne felt the tiny orbs make impact, ripping through her dueling robes with ease.

"I could make those little bastards break skin, you know?" Tonks added as she cancelled the spell, ending the duel just as the horn sounded, officially ending their session.

"I know." Daphne replied, determined to find an effective counter for the strategy.

They met in the middle of the room, both women covered in sweat, one with a smile on her face, the other a disappointed grin.

"You're getting much better, Daphne." The older woman added encouragingly.

Behind Tonks, Harry nodded his head in agreement causing her to smile brightly.

"She's right." Harry greeted her, his enthusiasm strained from his session with Ogletree. "You're counters are much more effective."

His praise caused her to blush.

"You two lovebirds are going to pay me today, right?" Tonks butted in, ruining the moment.

Daphne frowned - the fact that Harry had been paying for her lessons had annoyed her, but hadn't been worth the fight.

"Gringotts is our first stop." Daphne replied with confidence, seemingly placating the annoying woman.

She had always found Gringotts to be an eerie place.

Between the armed goblins every couple of meters communicating with each other through a series of grunts and indecipherable words, to the white-grey marble and the silent patrons like her waiting nervously to be served.

Nothing seemed to cut through the banks tense environment.

As a child her mom used to tell her and Astoria that if they remained still than the goblins wouldn't be able to see her.

She and Astoria would draw amused looks as they stood off near the large entranceway, neither moving a muscle nor making a sound while her parents conducted their business at the bank.

"Here you are, Lady Greengrass." The goblin barked impatiently, shoving a dossier and a purse of coins into her hands before pushing her aside.

A few meters behind her Harry stood engrossed in his own dossier.

Standing next to him in silence, Daphne browsed through the assets currently listed in her family vault.

There was nothing out of the ordinary, an amount of money with minimal deposits and withdrawals over the last decade or so.

The amount that her father had kept in their family vault, however, had surprised her. She had been under the impression that her family had been investing more of their assets.

' _I'll have to talk to our financial advisors.'_

"That's interesting." Harry stated from next to her, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Hmm?" She hummed, hoping she conveyed her point.

"The original blueprints to Potter Manor are listed in the inventory."

That piqued her interest. Voldemort had burned down Potter Manor during the first war, leaving a supposedly beautiful piece of land vacant.

"Are you going to rebuild?" She asked as her own attention was drawn to a deposit made by her father from the previous October.

' _42 crystal vials.'_

Ophelia's memories. In all the commotion she had forgotten to ask her father why he had had them moved to their vault.

"Eventually." He answered ambiguously.

"Harry?" She asked, drawing his attention to her.

For a second she didn't push further, taking a moment to take her boyfriend in for seemingly the first time in ages.

' _Training has done wonders for him.'_

"Would you mind if I stored Ophelia's memories at Grimmauld Place?"

Harry frowned slightly.

"Why don't we return them to your house?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Harry had been pressing her to return home for weeks.

It wasn't as though she hadn't wanted to return home, she just wasn't sure she was capable.

Shaking her head she replied; "my dad had them moved from our house for a reason."

He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment.

"That's fine, as long as I have access to them as well."

She nodded sharply. They had no secrets.

Leaving the bank, Daphne dragged Harry through the crowds of Diagon Alley and towards Fortescue's, chatting idly along the way.

"…the broom races in Paris next weekend, maybe we should go? It would be nice to get away from London for a weekend."

Harry ignored her question, his eyes focused on the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

"Is that Crabbe and Goyle?" He said, pointing to a pair of bulky boys glancing around dumbly.

At that moment two other men approached the pair.

' _Marcus Flint.'_

She found herself fingering her wand as the known Death Eater and another man approached her classmates.

"That man, with Flint. Do you recognize him?"

Her gaze shifted to the fourth man; tall and lanky with shoulder length black hair, he appeared to be directing the other three into the alley.

"Let's follow them." She found herself saying.

To her surprise, Harry seemed to hesitate briefly before casting a disillusionment charm on the both of them and taking the lead.

"Let's go."

Grabbing her by the hand, Harry led her through Knockturn Alley, weaving in and out of the crowd, never letting the quartette in front of them too far out of sight.

The Death Eater's stopped at a corner to talk for a few seconds before entering a dingy pub.

"Stay here!" He whispered, leaving her invisible on the corner.

She watched intently as a shimmering mass entered the pub, disappearing from view, only to feel a tug on her robes a half a minute later.

"Come on!" Harry's outline whispered once more as he grabbed her arm and led her back through the crowded alley.

She felt the cool sensation of her disillusionment charm disappear as she and Harry became visible once more.

"What happened?" She asked as they kept pace with the masses.

"They disappeared." He said irritably. "But not before I placed a tracking charm on Crabbe.

His ingenuity caused her to grin. _'Do I even know any tracking charms?'_

As they approached Fortescue's she let the subject die, turning to face him as she grabbed his hands and dragged him sight-unseen towards the ice cream parlor.

"Come on." She said, fluttering her eyes softly, the idea of her buying him ice cream seemingly forgotten. "I'll let you buy me a cone."

* * *

The glare off the silver teapot caused him to snarl in annoyance as Lucius's elf escorted the pair through the garden and to the gazebo where they would be safe to talk.

Why Lucius couldn't use his office inside the manor, Severus would never know.

"Which other fifth year did you name as prefect, Severus?" His friend asked politely, preferring to make small talk before getting down to business.

"Lady Greengrass." He replied evenly.

Lucius winced. It was no secret that Lady Greengrass suspected Lord Malfoy of poisoning her family.

"A perfectly reasonable choice. I've heard good things about her."

Somehow he doubted the older man had heard _good_ things about the girl. Terrifying, perhaps. The girl was becoming more and more like the woman she hated by the day.

"She is rather brilliant."

The two fell silent as they drank their tea, causing him to stir in impatience.

"You don't think I killed them, do you?"

Although he appeared casual, Severus could see the slight tension that was beginning to form on the other man's face.

The truth was Lucius wasn't sadistic enough to pull off such a gruesome crime.

"No Lucius, I do not."

The tension on Lucius's face melted away at his proclamation and the man graced Severus with a rare smile.

"That means a lot to me, Severus."

They fell silence once more, and although they were covered by the gazebo, Severus found himself growing hot and increasingly impatient.

"Is there something you wished to tell me, Lucius?"

The blonde haired man set his tea down gently.

"Yes, there is."

The aristocrat took an agonizingly slow sip of tea before deciding to continue.

Even when eager to gloat, Lucius had to make him ask.

"Well, what is it?" He asked irritably. He had never been one for the aristocrat's petty little games.

"Bellatrix's spy."

Severus found himself leaning into Lucius's words, the other man clearly delighting in knowing something he did not.

Albus had spent months speculating on the identity of the elusive spy. Severus himself had postulated that it wasn't a single spy responsible for Flitwick, McGonagall, and Miss Moon's deaths, but separate culprits.

Neither he nor the Headmaster were any closer to solving that particular mystery.

"I've had the rat spend his time tailing Bellatrix."

He was hardly surprised. Lucius had long suspected that Bellatrix had murdered his father, it would only make sense that he was having her followed.

"Where he overheard Bellatrix having an intimate conversation with Septima Vector."

He kept his face clear of emotion, only somewhat surprised by the revelation. Septima, after all, had gained the most from the deaths of Flitwick and McGonagall.

A small detail from the latest Order meeting spurred a thought in his mind.

"Do you think she was responsible for murdering the Greengrass family?"

"Yes." Lucius replied without hesitation. "Ten minutes before they were poisoned I tried to warn Alfred about Septima, but he insisted we speak after the party."

" _I saw Lucius talking to Alfred minutes before his murder."_

' _What do I do?'_

The identity of such a valuable spy was the perfect bargaining chip.

"What do you expect me to do with this piece of information, Lucius?"

The other man paused, looking at him purposefully.

"I don't care what you do with the information, Severus." He said slowly. "We're just talking."

As the conversation switched subjects a million thoughts raced through his mind before he came to a realization.

' _Lucius Malfoy just betrayed the Dark Lord.'_

Not directly, of course. But it was an open secret that the headmaster and the dark lord used him to funnel information to the opposition. By disclosing the name of the dark lord's most effective spy while giving him carte blanche to do with that information as he pleased, Lucius had signed his own death warrant.

He found his annoyance over the sun dissipate as he listened to Malfoy's gripes while he tried to figure out the best way to use his new found information.

* * *

Tonks limped towards him, a scowl marring her diamond shaped face.

Snickering to himself, Bill put on an inquisitive look; "how was your session with Harry?" He asked innocently.

He hadn't believed her when she begrudgingly admitted that the fifteen year old was a better fighter than she was.

" _His speed, brutality, and daring make it difficult to counter."_

Bill had laughed. Then he saw the memories from the Wizengamot and it all made sense. The way he commanded his magic, his precise movements, and his relentless attacking ability.

The Order needed warriors, even if they were only fifteen.

"Fuck off, Bill!" She roared, her hair cycling through colors as she punched his shoulder while storming by.

' _That answers that.'_

"It's unnatural - Bill."

The curse breaker let her rant, knowing better than to risk her ire by interrupting.

"A kid shouldn't be that good..."

' _Maybe you should only train Daphne?'_

"He is training with Dumbledore, Snape, and Moody as well, Nym." He said gently.

Her attitude seemed to be synced with his tone as she deflated.

"I know." She said softly, closing the gap between them. "But it's not supposed to be this way."

She wrapped her arms around his neck before leaning in for a soft kiss.

"Did you pass along the highlights?"

Harry had missed the previous Order meeting and Bill had hoped that Tonks would share the important stuff.

She waved him off. "He has Moody this afternoon. The old bastard can catch him up."

Separating himself from her, Bill let out a frustrated groan.

"He and Daphne have been spending their time wandering Diagon and Whisper Alley's, and occasionally slipping into Knockturn. If they stumble upon the 'Randy Unicorn' before we're ready to move -"

Tonks gave him a dismissive wave. "He's trying to get her mind off what happened to her family, not burn down a bar."

"They're powerful teenagers, Tonks. They think they can take on the world. They aren't exactly rational."

Tonks dismissed his concerns with a shrug. "Then you tell them."

How could she brush this off? The pair were exceptionally bright, and the bar wasn't that inconspicuous, all it would take was them seeing one suspicious face enter that bar and all bets were off.

"He would take it more seriously coming from you." He chided.

Her newly minted calm demeanor disappeared in an instant.

"What would you have me do, Bill? Go up to the most powerful teenager in Britain - an impulsive hothead who is known to kill people when angered - and spoon-feed him a target?"

' _If his allies don't think they can keep him in check, then who can?'_

"No, I guess you can't."

Tonks deflated slightly.

"They aren't bad kids, they aren't looking for a fight."

He found Tonks's bi-polar attitude towards her surrogate brother endearing, alternating between complaining about him and standing up for him in the same conversation.

"We don't need to worry about them."

He sighed.

"I know that. But they are still kids, kids who think they're invincible."

She let out a hollow laugh.

"For all we know, Harry might be."

* * *

The room smelled of decay. That fact in and of itself had very little effect on him – rooms had their own looks and smells, most people wouldn't give it another thought – what did hold meaning was his reaction.

Absent was the tinge of annoyance he generally felt in the back of his mind at such issues. That familiar annoyance then turning into anger, that anger settling into a comfortable rage.

Instead he felt… nothing. If he hadn't known that the smell should annoy him, he never would have associated any reaction to the smell at all.

That lack of reaction was out of character for _both_ Voldemort _and_ Tom Riddle. He had never been a man to let such trivialities pass without acknowledgement.

Except apparently he was.

Across from him Marcel eyed him with interest as he sipped his brandy.

"You're still having issues then?"

Although phrased as a question, the French necromancer's words were more of a statement.

He felt his lips form into an uncharacteristic smile.

"I am." Voldemort replied, the pleasant tone sounding foreign to his ears.

Across from him the long-haired Frenchman grinned, exposing a set of graying teeth and a crooked smile.

"How, interesting." With that the necromancer began humming a morbid tune, waving his wand intricately as he checked his soul.

Voldemort found himself raising an amused eyebrow at the man.

' _What the hell is wrong with me?'_

Horace Slughorn may have described horcruxes to him midway through his fifth year, but it wasn't till that summer when a young Tom Riddle first heard of an ambitious French necromancer who was obsessed with death, that he had made his first personal breakthrough on the subject.

For a price the necromancer had overseen the creation of his diary.

He had known the risks - the soul was fragile, and fracturing it, he had been told, could have consequences.

Having no proof to offer in support of his theory, Tom Riddle proceeded with the ritual and went on his way.

He returned three years later with a sense of paranoia, stemming from his increasingly violent rebellion, desiring more capsules to protect his soul.

This time it was interest, not gold, that drove the necromancer to assist him in his growing obsession.

It took him years to discover the full effects that the items were having on him, culminating in his unstable soul detaching from his body when he attacked the Potters.

"Of course we knew this was always a possibility, didn't we?" DuPont offered with a slight chuckle, seemingly finding a touch of humor in his situation.

The man's amusement unleashed a tidal wave of anger deep within him, in under a second his ebony and phoenix feather wand was in his hand and pointed at the other man, leaving DuPont screaming in agony on the ground.

"You find Lord Voldemort's predicament humorous, Marcel?" He hissed, slipping into parseltongue towards the end as he let up on the Cruciatus Curse.

"No… no my lord." The other man got out, his body convulsing intermittently on the floor before him, a result of the nerve damage.

' _He has gotten weak with age.'_

"A-all I meant, my lord, is that your soul has gone through a great deal of turmoil; who knows what kind of effect re-unification may have."

Marcel had won grudging respect among the International Confederation of Wizards for his research into soul magic, without him the subject would remain a mystery.

Many academics yearned for more knowledge on the subject, outside of Marcel DuPont few were willing to take on the stigma associated with such a taboo subject.

" _My lord I believe the symptoms will clear up should you choose to reunify your soul."_

He had checked the man's arithmancy himself, coming to a similar conclusion yet choosing to ignore the advice in his quest for power.

A mistake that had cost him over a decade.

Voldemort paced the room quietly for several minutes while the shivering wizard recovered from his bought of anger.

"Many years ago you urged me to get rid of my horcruxes in order to restore balance." He said, pacing the room.

"Do you still believe that to be true?"

Marcel's eyes darted around the room franticly, betraying his answer before it could leave his lips.

He felt his anger spike momentarily before his energy crashed seconds later, leaving him dizzy and exhausted.

Abandoning his plans for retribution against the French wizard, Voldemort composed himself, eager to return home.

"You have lost several horcruxes since then." Marcel said in a frightful whisper. "I'm afraid you'll never be the same."

* * *

He walked casually down the weathered wooden stairs leading to the small muggle village that stood several hundred meters west of Sergei's property, enjoying the slight breeze and warm summer air.

' _Eggs_

 _Butter_

 _Cheese_

 _Meat_

 _Cream'_

He repeated the grocery list in his head several times until the list was firmly ingrained in his memory.

' _He could have sent the elf, Terry. He's trusting you.'_ The thought that Sergei felt he could trust him pleased Terry.

How he was going to acquire the items, however, was anybody's guess; Sergei hadn't provided him with any money.

Reaching the wrought iron gate, Terry reached out a timid hand, lightly pressing his index finger to the lock.

A relieved look came across his face when he wasn't shocked, and with quite a bit more confidence, he pushed his way through the gate with ease.

' _Thank you, Sergei!'_

Dressed in standard muggle clothes, Terry made his way across the busy street and to the building with strange stations occupied by horseless carriages.

He wrinkled his face as the surrounding smell burned his nostrils.

' _How do muggles live like this?'_

The sound of a loud horn brought him back to reality as an angry looking man leaned his head out of his carriage to yell at him.

Picking up his pace, Terry nearly fell back in alarm when the glass window in front of him sprang open, revealing a dimly lit room with several rows of food.

' _Is this where the elves get food?'_

' _Eggs_

 _Butter_

 _Cheese_

 _Meat_

 _Cream'_

Terry reminded himself as he quickly gathered the ingredients into his sack.

The man behind the counter eyed him with suspicion as he finished assisting another customer, causing Terry's heart to race.

' _Is he the shopkeeper? Am I supposed to pay him?'_

Keeping a brisk pace, he walked past the counter and towards the magic window.

"HEY KID!"

He winced at the angry shouting and took off at a jog, hoping the man wouldn't pursue.

"HEY KID GET BACK HERE!"

Terry was running now, the man behind the counter not too far behind.

Using the horseless carriages to obscure himself from view, Terry made his way through the cement lot and back towards where he had come from.

He stepped out onto the pavement, the carriages on the street moving fast as a broom, but he didn't care, Sergei wouldn't appreciate failure.

Ignoring the horns, he made his way across the street and to the wrought iron fence before pushing his way through to safety, the groceries tucked safely in his sack.

' _Sergei will be happy.'_ He thought with a grin.

He was interrupted from his revelry by the alarm on his watch, reminding him of another one of his promises to Sergei.

Reaching into his sack, Terry removed two vials, downing them without a second thought.

* * *

The feeling of toes brushing against the bottom of her feet caused Fleur to purr in delight.

"I am going to grab us coffee."

She felt the weight of the bed shift as Septima exited, covering herself with a light robe as she left the room.

' _What am I doing here?'_

She realized the silliness of the question as soon as it formed in her mind, quickly coming up with a better question.

' _What am I getting out of this?'_

Boredom and insecurity had led her to be seduced, but why was she staying? She had nothing to gain from this.

"I'm going to have to leave soon." Septima said apologetically as she handed her a to-go cup of coffee.

"My duties as Headmistress have drastically reduced the amount of free time I have during the summer."

Septima's faux humility answered her question instantly, reminding her exactly why Fleur was in bed with a woman eleven years her senior on a Tuesday in August.

' _What is Septima getting out of this?'_ That was the real question.

It wasn't possible that Septima could still be using her to fill the void left by Sirius, could it?

Of course not, maybe at first but not anymore, not nearly nine months later.

' _She's ambitious, my family has connections on the continent…'_

After the honeymoon period had ended, that had been her original assumption.

However the entirety of that line of thought no longer rang true - she had been working directly for one of father's direct partners for months and Septima had only shown cursory interest in her work, rarely asking follow up questions.

The same could be said for Septima's interest in her family. While not directly involved with the Ministry, the Delacour family held more power in the private sector than any other family in France.

' _If not that, then what?'_

The only truth to her original assumption was that Septima was ambitious, working her way up to the post of Deputy Headmistress before she was thirty was one hell of an accomplishment.

Gabrielle had quipped that not even Dumbledore had accomplished such a feat.

When Fleur had brought it up to Septima, she gave her a proud smirk and made a joke.

" _Assuming Albus doesn't live forever, I'll be the youngest head Hogwarts has ever had - male or female."_

" _You don't think he'll retire?"_

" _No."_ Septima had replied. _"If Albus had planned to retire, he would have done so by now."_

But why was she interested in her? There was no way Fleur could help Septima's career.

" _Quite the opposite, actually."_ The logical voice of her father whispered in her ear.

She smiled back at the beautiful brunette as they sipped coffee on the side of her bed.

"What do they have you doing now?"

Septima was always busy with work, even during the summer. She wondered if it was the same at Beauxbatons.

"I'll be sending out Hogwarts acceptance letters to all the muggleborn's today." Septima's hazel eyes came alight with passion as she spoke. "Did you know that Harry found out about magic that way?"

The only thing Septima seemed to love more than teaching was talking about her star pupil.

' _Is that it? Is she keeping tabs on me because of my relationship with Harry?'_

She nearly snorted. That couldn't be it, she had only had a handful of conversations with the young Lord.

She couldn't possibly be keeping Fleur around because Septima found Harry to be that interesting, could she?

' _Screw it, let's do an experiment.'_

"How was Harry's birthday? I haven't had a chance to speak with him since we had lunch during the London Invitational."

Septima's eyes didn't belie her interest; Fleur hadn't mentioned her lunch date with boy-wonder till now.

"You had lunch with Harry?" Septima answered, leaving the question hanging in the air awkwardly for a second before rushing to fill the void. "That must have been right after the tragedy at the Greengrass party. How was he?"

' _It must be my relationship with Harry.'_

It was the only conclusion she could draw as the older woman dug for more information on Harry in lieu of answering her question.

But why? She barely knew him, what could she possibly gleam from her interactions with him that she couldn't discover herself?

Standing from the bed Fleur began to get dressed as she answered, still pondering the question.

"He was… _renfrogné_ " She said, unsure of the English equivalent.

A look of pity came across Septima's face. "He's been through so much."

That much was true. From what Fleur had learned on her personal tour of the pubs of Diagon Alley, there was a growing group of people who believed that being associated with Harry was a death curse.

' _But he wasn't renfrogné for himself.'_

Septima had to know that. Anyone who spent even a small amount of time around those two could see they loved each other. So why would she think that Harry was… _sullen_ for himself?

"He has." Fleur agreed. A smile came over her face as she remembered the conversation.

"During our lunch he told me about the time he and Sirius went to the 'London Invitational' to see Tonks duel a few summers ago."

A peculiar look came over Septima's face as Fleur relayed the details to her, only to disappear so quickly she thought she may have imagined it.

"He was so nervous when he ran into Daphne and Alfred."

Regardless of how Harry and Daphne's story ends, Fleur couldn't help but smile at the storybook moment where boy and girl set aside their passionate rivalry to find something...more.

Life doesn't go that way for real people.

Septima gave her a brilliant smile when she brought up that meeting.

"At the time I was too absorbed in trying to win Sirius's heart." Septima said sadly. "But looking back, it was a beautiful afternoon."

The statement caused Fleurs heart to quicken as she made to quickly change the subject.

"Do you mind if I use your toilet before I leave?"

"Of course." The Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts said. "But try and hurry, I don't want to be late."

Fleur's smile was slightly forced. "I'll be out in a minute."

Shutting the door behind her, Fleur sat on the toilet, replaying her conversation with Harry in her mind.

' _He never mentioned that Septima was there that day.'_

Why wouldn't he mention her? He had appeared to take solace in giving her an incredibly detailed timeline of his 'first date,' as he had called it, with Daphne

' _He mentioned the duelists they had seen, by name, even the ones that hadn't faced his cousin. Why wouldn't he mention that Sirius and Septima were flirting?'_

In her limited interactions with him, after she seemed to have earned his trust, Harry had been very forthcoming about his feelings towards both Sirius and Septima. He wouldn't forget that Septima had been there.

Fleur felt a pit begin to form in her stomach as she remembered the _other_ significant thing that may have happened during that years 'London Invitational.'

' _Could Septima have been the one to obliviate Sirius?'_

She was jumping to conclusions, Fleur knew this. The thought was absurd, Septima loved Sirius. Septima _still_ loved Sirius; if the pictures of the two of them that dotted her townhome were of any indication.

Why would she obliviate Sirius? She was stumped.

Pondering that particular question caused another to form in her head; _'could she have obliviated Harry, as well?'_

If done properly, Septima could have erased all trace of her ever having been there from his mind.

' _That would mean Septima is the spy Harry is talking about, and she just made her first mistake.'_

The thought sounded absurd to her. Septima was smart, funny, beautiful, charming, and a halfblood, what would she have to gain by spying for the dark lord?

' _Isn't that what would make her a good spy, though?'_

She wanted to discount the idea, but she couldn't - something was off about Septima Vector, maybe this was it.

Quickly she removed her wand from her purse, conjuring a half-dozen fruit flies.

' _She would have warded against monitoring charms.'_ Fleur frowned, tapping her thigh in thought.

' _What about recording charms?'_

Fleur smiled deviously at her idea. Monitoring charms were malicious, where recording charms were used regularly by scholars as a way to take notes during experiments.

"Is everything okay, Fleur? I need to get going!" Septima's impatient voice rang out through the bathroom.

The quarter-veela quickly charmed four of the fruit flies to spread out among the townhome, while directing the last two to follow their target.

"Coming!" She said, flushing the toilet and exiting the bathroom where Septima greeted her with a mysterious smile.

"What took you so long in their?"

The innocent question only acted to fuel Fleur's paranoia as she fought to keep her expression serene.

"There's a presentation I'm giving at work this morning. I was trying to calm myself."

Septima gave her a grin and a kiss. "I'm sure it will all work out just fine."

' _I hope so.'_

* * *

He dashed up the stairs and towards the library in an uncharacteristic manner the moment Daphne had disappeared into the floo, leaving him alone as she visited the people who managed the Greengrass family assets.

" _Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?"_

" _It's family business, Harry."_ She had said with a sad smile. _"Besides, you hate numbers. Maybe if Terry was around…"_

The innocent slip had dimmed both their moods - it had been two months and there had been no sign of his missing friend, nor was there any indication that progress was being made in finding him.

Equally alarming had been how the world had seemed to forget about his friend; Melisa had even, thanks to Minister Bones, begun selling her Wolfsbane Potion to the Ministry to distribute before full moons.

' _Not that that's a bad thing.'_

The results from the first widespread distribution of the potion had been overwhelmingly positive.

' _The world hasn't forgotten Terry.'_ He reminded himself, thinking back to the bitching he had overheard from Snape before the last Order meeting. _'They've used him as a chapter in his mum's biography.'_

" _I can't believe Slughorn's named Boot as a finalist."_ He'd overheard the man griping to the Order's other potions mistress, Marlene McKinnon. _"It's not exactly complicated, is it? Horace has always preferred the story to the potion, hasn't he?"_

Harry had no doubt that if Terry hadn't been missing, Daphne would be exploring the possibility of moving her assets to the care of Edmund's firm.

As it stood, he assumed the turmoil surrounding the Boot family would make her hesitant to make _that_ move.

' _Maybe she'll follow the Zabini's and shift her assets to the continent where it's more stable?'_

France was relatively calm, he was sure he could get Daphne a meeting with Gabriel Delacour.

He tabled those thoughts for the time being as the wards surrounding the Black library warmed him, recognizing his magic and granting him access to perhaps the most comprehensive private library in Britain.

It was rare that Harry got an entire day to himself, and he planned on taking full advantage of the opportunity.

' _Maybe I'll go flying later?'_ He thought, his mind drifting back to the brand new _'Nimbus 3000'_ sitting in his room.

The broom, a birthday gift from the CEO of Nimbus to the last surviving member of the company's founding family, was set to become the official broom of the Wimbourne Wasps that fall, a major coup.

Utilizing the library's cataloguing system, Harry recalled the book on wards he had been reading the week prior.

He had become mildly obsessed recently, trying to decipher the various wards Tom Riddle had laid throughout Hogwarts, determined to spend his fifth year unlocking the Chamber of Secrets.

' _ **What Does an Inconclusive Diagnostic Mean?'**_

The heading grabbed his attention, pushing forward a nearly forgotten memory from the prior year.

He had encountered one of these, in Tom Riddle's secret room, the wards protecting the book in the hidden drawer.

Harry hadn't bothered testing the wards a second time after Daphne had found him convulsing alone in the room during third year until this past November, when he and Daphne had been fighting.

While his original diagnostic charm had pointed towards a 'Gravi Capitis Dolore,' a small area protection ward ideally used on a doorway or small to moderately sized object, the symptoms he had experienced didn't fit, and he hadn't known why.

Until he ran a more advanced charm last fall.

The results had been indecisive at best, shuffling through a myriad of possibilities.

In a clever move Riddle hadn't modified an existing ward like he had originally thought, choosing instead to cast a camouflage ward, a highly adaptable ward that allowed the caster to choose the wards appearance and effect.

The possibility of flying long forgotten, Harry removed his notebook and began jotting notes on a possible counter for the wards, ecstatic to finally have a breakthrough after nearly two years of research.

* * *

A cold wetness shocked his system awake.

A familiar, harsh, loud laughter rang throughout the dark room, reminding him where he was.

' _What time is it?'_

"Good morning, Terry." Sergei's jovial voice echoed off the walls of his rather comfortable bedroom.

"What time is it?" He asked, his voice trembling slightly. If he had overslept -

Seeming to read his mind Sergei's laugh boomed throughout the room once more.

"You are a jumpy one, aren't you?" He asked rhetorically. "Get up, get up!" The older man clapped, invading his personal space, jolting Terry awake.

He jumped out of bed, ensuring that his movements were quick, but not hurried, never hurried.

Silently he thumbed through his wardrobe, pausing briefly at each robe to gauge Sergei's reaction.

Seeing the Russian nod approvingly at a soft set of dark black robes, Terry grabbed them, quickly getting ready.

Feeling hopeful, Terry made his way to the desk containing his precious wand, wishing that he would have need for it.

A stern nod told him all he needed to know, his spirits deflating.

"What do you need me for, sir?"

A toothy grin from Sergei caused Terry to shutter.

"You're lonely, yes?" Sergei said, draping his arm around him, leading the lanky brunette out of the room, passed the bathroom with the painting of the sword, and to Sergei's secret staircase.

"Y-yes." He said, scolding himself for hesitating.

Sergei said nothing and Terry relaxed once more as they descended the winding staircase.

"You like women. Yes?"

' _Is that screaming?'_

"Yes." He answered immediately.

At the bottom of the staircase Sergei spun Terry around so they were facing each other, resting both of his hands on his shoulder as he looked Terry in the eyes.

"The Dark Lord is going to kill my wife unless I get a piece of information, Terry." Sergei said calmly pausing briefly to gauge his reaction.

"Terry I asked you here because the girl here is a rather pretty classmate of yours."

' _Who's life is the dark lord ruining now?'_

"What does _he_ want sir?"

Sergei gave a half smirk. "She's the secret keeper to some location." He said, handing Terry parchment and quill. "The Dark Lord will let the girl and my wife live if we have an answer soon. Will you help me?"

' _He's trusting me?'_ He smiled at the thought of being trusted again. "Of course, sir. Anything I can do to help you."

Sergei gave him a pleased, but worried look. "Be quick, Terry. If you cannot get an answer, I'm afraid I will have to intervene."

Terry gave him a slight nod before grabbing the quill and parchment and heading off towards the noise.

"HELP!"

The feminine voice had a familiar huskiness to it.

"HELP, SOMEBODY!"

' _Parvati?'_

Smeared makeup covered her pretty face as Parvati Patil sat in a familiar cage near a familiar puddle of water.

His footsteps seemed to catch her attention.

"Terry?" The pretty Indian witch said in confusion. "Terry where am I? What the hell are you doing here?"

Wishing he had the strength to use legilimency, he wondered exactly _how_ he was going to get her to tell him.

"You're at Sergei's." He said with a shrug, his voice, void of emotion, causing her to shutter. "I've been here since - "

How long had he been here?

"A long time." He said lamely. "What day is it?"

"August 28th. You've been missing for nearly three months!"

' _Three months?'_

All the things he'd missed.

Harry, Marci, his parents…

' _Do they even need me?'_

"How are my parents?"

For the first time Parvati calmed.

"Worried."

"And Marci?"

A slightly conflicted look crossed the witch's face before settling.

"She's worried as well."

Of course they were worried, why wouldn't they be? He'd been missing for three months.

' _You have a mission.'_

"Parvati I need to know your secret. It's the only way we get out of this."

A perplexed look crossed the girls face.

"Terry, I can't do that. You have to understand."

He _did_ understand, that was the problem. He understood that if she betrayed whoever she was protecting they were dead.

' _But if she doesn't comply.'_ She'd be left to Sergei's care.

"Parvati I need to know or else Sergei will be the one interrogating you." He couldn't keep the desperation from seeping into his voice as he pleaded for Parvati to quit being so stubborn.

"Terry if I do that my family dies, they already have Padma!"

For the first time the Gryffindor girl broke down in tears.

"Parvati he's going to find out, one way or another." He pleaded once more.

A soft pop from behind him caught Terry's attention.

"Master wants to know if Master Boot is needing help?"

' _I'm out of time.'_ Panic was beginning to set in.

' _What do I do?'_

He didn't know, but he did know what Sergei would do to the pretty girl.

"No elf." He said with a resigned sigh, pulling Parvati out of the small cage.

And in a moment his hand was around her throat causing his classmate to gag and gasp for air, her body squirming as he pressed her body against the cold stone wall.

"I need to know that secret, Parvati." He said, doing the best to remove the emotion from his voice as he let go of her throat, her body falling to the cold ground.

"Why are you doing this Terry?" She cried. "Please don't do this to me Terry."

"Why are you making me do this to you Parvati?" He shouted back, grabbing the girl by her throat once more as he threw her back up against the hard wall.

Her eyes widened as she struggled for oxygen in his strong grip.

This time Terry gave her a ham fisted punch to the ribs causing her to sputter in his grip.

"Tell me what you know!" He shouted in her face, his voice manic with desperation as he gave her another punch to the ribs.

Tears ran down her face as he let go of her, leaving Parvati to gasp for air on the damp floor.

"Why are you making me do this Parvati? I don't want to do this, but if I don't, Sergei will. You don't want that Parvati. You don't want that at all."

The girl gave him a terrified look as she scooted away from him before climbing to her feet.

' _Please don't run Parvati.'_

And she was off, and he was in pursuit.

' _Please stop Parvati, I'm only trying to help you.'_

And he sprung at her, tackling her to the ground.

"Tell me your secret!" He cried, his fist finding flesh.

"Why are you making me do this, Parvati?" Terry cried again, his fist finding the same soft spot once more.

" _Terry!"_ A voice echoed, his fists finding more soft flesh.

"Why are you making me do this, Parvati?" He sobbed, cocking his arm back for another punch.

And like that he was on the floor, restrained by Sergei.

"Terry." Sergei's calm voice said as the man's arms wrapped around him.

' _What happened?'_ He thought before his attention was drawn to a spot on the ground and it all came back.

In front of him was the unconscious mass of Parvati Patil, her face unrecognizable as the elf tended to her injuries on the floor.

"She'll live, sir." The elf said.

' _Why did she make me do that?'_

"It's on you if she doesn't, elf!" Sergei snapped before placing a comforting arm around his shoulder.

' _Why didn't she just tell me her secret?'_

"Shhh, Terry. It's okay." He said calmly, slipping a dreamless sleep potion into the boy's palm.

Terry downed it quickly before passing out on the spot, leaving him to himself.

' _Tempus.'_ He thought as he headed deeper into his dungeon. _'2:47.'_

He frowned at the time.

Entering a slightly smaller room, he eyed the bloodied, naked Indian girl shivering in fear in the corner.

Antonin Dolohov stared at the teenager with want for only a moment before pushing aside his desires.

The Dark Lord did not tolerate tardiness.

* * *

They sat motionless under their disillusionment charms on the dark corner across from the "Randy Unicorn," hoping her information would pay off.

" _Every Wednesday, around 2:30, a group of men in black robes enter, but don't come out."_

After Harry's tracking charms had failed, Daphne had begun to use her family's gold to buy information about death eater activity.

The tip about the late-night rendezvous had come courtesy of Mundungus Fletcher, a street urchin introduced to her by those ginger twats Harry had invested in.

' _2:47.'_ her watch read, and still there had been nothing. No movement near the bar.

' _Although there is clearly a party going on in the bar next door.'_

"What are we even doing here, Daph?" A tired whisper asked from next to her.

"Reconnaissance." She whispered back, her eyes never leaving the bar.

"What are we going to do if someone _is_ hanging around the pub at this hour? It's not exactly a crime."

That was true; there was no law against being drunk at a pub at quarter till three.

' _What are you going to do, Daphne?'_

Go in wands blazing, avenging the death of her family?

Several sets of footsteps echoing off the cobblestone road shifted her focus to the alley in front of them.

Three men levitating a petite, naked girl were heading towards the bar.

' _Why does she look so familiar?'_

"Padma?"

Harry whispered.

' _The pretty Indian girl in Ravenclaw. Daughter to Singh Patil, Ambassador to Britain.'_

"Is that Dolohov?" He followed up from a few feet in front of her.

As if hearing his name, the man paused at the door momentarily, taking a quick glance around before entering.

"We have to go after her." Daphne found herself saying. "We can't leave her to that monster."

It was a convenient excuse and they both knew it; neither of them particularly cared about the girl – certainly not enough to risk their own lives.

" _Revenge won't bring them back."_ Healer Ogletree's words played back to her in her mind.

' _What's that bitch know about revenge?'_ The greatest obstacle that cow would have to overcome was diabetes.

Without a word they were off, silently closing the distance between the three men holding Patil captive.

' _Where's Padma?'_ The girl was either being obscured or had disappeared.

She shook that thought from her mind as they followed them in to the dirty pub.

Harry grabbed her hand as they followed the three men dressed in black robes passed a half-dozen others also in black robes.

' _This is a Death Eater meeting.'_

"What do you want to do?" Harry whispered into her ear.

She smiled as the group of Death Eater's slowly began to disappear.

"Let's follow them."

Patiently they waited till there were only two left before silently hitting the final two with identical blasting curses to the head.

She felt nothing as their heads exploded in a show of gore.

She frowned as she glanced down at her blood-covered boots.

' _Those were new.'_

Seeing Harry grab the bone-white mask attached to his victim before promptly disappearing, she followed suit, appearing a second later in a damp, thick forest.

"This way." Harry directed from next to her, cleaning and adjusting the death eater garb to fit him properly as he grabbed her hand and guided her down a narrow dirt path.

They walked the winding trail in silence, the occasional ruffle of leaves from deep within the forest the only noise as they followed their targets for what seemed like ages before the entire group paused at an ancient weeping willow.

"Where're George and Rudolph?" One of the death eaters asked.

She felt her grip on her wand tighten; _'we've been caught.'_

Seemingly appearing out of nowhere, Dolohov shrugged them off.

"The drunks had to finish their drinks. We aren't responsible for them."

Dolohov stepped through the trees giant limbs and nearly out of view before approaching the trees trunk and displaying his left arm.

The tree glowed a faint green as an opening in the tree-trunk appeared, allowing the man and a still unconscious Padma Patil through.

"We need those marks." She said as a second death eater went through the passage before it closed once more.

They waited for several minutes before an opportunity to acquire a mark presented itself.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry whispered from next to her, an emerald green light emitting from his wand, striking his target dead a half-second later.

He repeated the feat once more, killing a second man.

"Thanks." She said, as she approached one of the downed death eaters before severing his left arm.

"No problem." A now visible Harry replied from next to her.

Grabbing the arms they stepped through the willows trunk with confidence.

' _Crucio.'_ Was the last thing she heard before falling to the ground in agony.

The skinny werewolf with greying dirty blonde hair squeezed his way through the raucous pub careful not to spill any of the amber liquid in the two glasses floating just in front of his nose, eager to get back to his morose companion.

"Thank you." The larger woman said as he offered her a drink, downing half the liquid in one go.

Melisa looked worn down and depressed in her dirty pale-pink robes.

It would be easy to think less of the woman for her appearance, however, given the circumstances her mere presence had the opposite effect.

"You're welcome." He said as they fell into an awkward silence.

"If you'd like we can go somewhere a little quieter."

The question was rhetorical and they both knew it - very few places were open at this time of morning, and the "Randy Unicorn" was out of the question, leaving "Howl at the Moon" as the only real option.

"Nonsense." She said, waving him off as she swayed in her seat.

' _Did she arrive drunk?'_ Remus gave her another sniff, this time focusing in on her specific scent.

"It only makes sense to meet here, especially at this time of month."

His nostrils were assaulted by the spicy aroma of firewhiskey.

' _She did.'_ Not that he could blame her - when Sirius had been killed he had nearly drank himself to death; he couldn't imagine having a son go missing.

"Of course."

A werewolf's energy spiked the night before a full moon, this is the best he would feel all month.

Melisa Boot finished her drink with another large sip as her eyes darted to and fro.

"Are you sure Greyback won't be taking us up on our offer? It won't cost his pack anything."

Remus shook his head in certainty; "his pack embraces the wolf, they have already joined Voldemort."

The woman shuttered at the dark lord's name, but pressed forward.

"What about Pickard?"

"He has graciously accepted." Moony stated with a proud smile - getting the leader of the Isles largest pack to accept Wolfsbane from the ministry was an accomplishment he would always treasure.

"Liam has always been more reasonable than Fenrir." Melisa stated with a disappointed sigh.

He was only half paying attention to her response as a pair of familiar scents assaulted his nose.

Standing up quickly, Remus excused himself before making his way to the street.

The scents led him to the entrance of the "Randy Unicorn" just in time to see a pair of shimmers reflect off the moonlight as they entered the bar.

' _No. No. No.'_

' _What the hell are Harry and Daphne doing here?'_

A trio of loud noises emitting from the bar caused him to pull his wand out in panic as he stormed in.

He was greeted with silence and an empty pub.

The floor soaked in blood and gore. That was the first thing he noticed as he walked around, his dark brown eyes settling on a pair of mostly naked, decapitated bodies.

Remus felt himself sigh in relief.

' _Harry is okay.'_ Before another thought populated his mind.

' _Harry is gone._ '

The thought sent him into a panic. If he had gone after the Death Eater's they were in serious trouble.

He had to wake Dumbledore.

Crossing through the trunk of the weeping willow and into a rather large opening surrounded on all sides by a thick forest, Harry immediately found himself under fire.

A toothy snarl came over his face as holly and phoenix feather found itself in his hand, his body instinctively entering a narrow crouch as he squared his stance, redirecting a series of spells back at his attackers.

A kaleidoscope of light seemed to rain down on them from all directions as Harry realized their mistake in running into the situation blind.

' _We're fucked.'_

They never should have been so impulsive. That thought did little for him as he began returning fire in earnest.

Daphne's scream interrupted his casting as he saw a thick, stream of violent dark red connecting his girlfriend to an unseen foe hiding in the treetops.

' _They're everywhere.'_

Her screaming stopped a half second later - Daphne's training under duress paying dividends as she set the tree ablaze.

' _That's not a bad idea.'_ He thought as a trio of spells connected with his shield, the third shattering it, and his non-casting shoulder.

Gritting his teeth and ignoring the pain, Harry took aim at a group of trees several meters in front of him.

" _Fiendfyre!"_ He roared.

Around them the spellfire ceased momentarily as the hellish flame devoured the group of trees in front of them, filling the air with the sound of burning logs and dying screams.

The air smelt like charred flesh as he felt the magic of the spell struggle against him, yearning for freedom.

Off in the recesses of his mind he was aware of the sweat pouring down his face as the valley became alight with flame and the air thick with smoke.

He felt the spell buck as it began to break free, spreading out wildly throughout the forest.

' _Shit.'_

He didn't have time to worry about the cursed flame as Daphne grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the way of a sickly green spell and into the flaming forest.

They were under attack once more, firing spells in all directions as the silhouettes of the two teens danced in the smoke and flame.

In front of him Harry summoned several flaming logs before banishing them at his opponents, sending them to the depths of the great flame sea.

His actions only gave him a brief reprieve before he felt several spells cut into his skin.

He shrugged off the pain, returning his attention to the fight in front of him. Growling huskily before returning fire at those who dared to attack him.

From next to him Daphne was more than holding her own against a pair of unmasked Death Eaters; easily dodging their spells while flinging back her own.

His lungs burned as the flames, running out of things to burn, began to close in.

' _We have to get out of here!'_ He thought, silently casting bubblehead charms on himself and Daphne - who had just dispatched of her opponents.

Grabbing her hand, Harry tried to apparate the two to safety to no avail.

' _Fuck.'_

The pair darted around the valley, hoping for an escape, only to be met with walls of flame in every direction.

' _We're going to die.'_

"POTTER!" A thick, slightly accented voice roared.

' _Where have I heard that voice before?'_

"Come out and face your destiny!"

Then it dawned on him.

' _Antonin Dolohov.'_

The man had been responsible for sending Sirius to St. Mungo's.

' _And there's a broom next to him.'_

"DAPHNE!" He shouted, pointing towards the broom.

Next to him Daphne didn't respond, shooting off several blood-boilers.

Harry joined her a second later as the trio exchanged spells.

' _Damn he's fast!'_ He thought as Dolohov deftly dodged both his and Daphne's curses.

The lanky sociopath responded with a pair of killing curses.

Diving out of the way, Harry was prepared to erect a shield for Daphne, only to be hit with a skin shredding curse while distracted.

Daphne conjured a stone shield to absorb the spell as layer upon layer of skin started painfully peeling off of his arm.

' _She can take care of herself.'_ He reminded himself.

Silently throwing up a stone barrier, Harry tended to his shoulder and ended Dolohov's curse.

' _Where the hell is Padma?'_

A scream caused him to pop out from behind his barrier, the sight erecting a feral smile from him.

Idly he noticed that the flames from his fiendfyre were all-but gone, but that wasn't why he was smiling.

Several meters away, Daphne had Dolohov writhing on the charred forest floor in agony.

"Very impressive. Miss Greengrass."

The new voice caused a chill to reverberate through his body at the familiar sound; Lord Voldemort had arrived.

Her innards were on-fire as she screamed herself hoarse.

" _Use occlumency to push as much of the pain to the side, and counter with a spell, any spell. That should break the caster's concentration."_

Harry's words reverberated in her mind as Daphne went through the process of overcoming the cruciatus curse, thankful that she had practiced this situation.

Her weak stunner did the trick, surprising her opponent and ending the spell.

' _Damn cowards.'_ She thought as a wicked grin spread across her face.

Only cowards would hide in trees.

"Ignem Aestifer!" She shouted as the flame leapt from her wand, slowly devouring the tree in front of her.

As the Death Eaters who had been hiding in the tree began to jump off of it, desperate to avoid being burned to death, Daphne took aim, hitting two with blasting curses in the neck.

An intense light, and even more intense heat drew her attention towards her boyfriend, who was struggling with a line of fiendfyre.

' _Goddammit Harry, are you trying to get us killed?'_

While Harry was wrestling his magic for control of his ill-advised decision, she stood, her back to his, deflecting spells coming from behind.

' _Fulminus!'_ She thought as a streak of purple lightning rocketed down from the sky, scorching the earth where several Death Eaters had taken refuge.

A streak of green caused her eyes to widen in horror as she grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him out of the flame-riddled valley and into the hellish flame-riddled forest, her efforts narrowly saving his life.

Next to her, Harry was taking on several opponents, seemingly unaware of the litany of spells that were bursting through his shields.

' _We're not going to survive this.'_ The thought wasn't as horrifying as she thought.

' _But neither are they.'_

Daphne felt herself becoming light-headed as she choked on the smoke filled air, attempting to fend off her enemies.

As if sensing her agony, Harry hit her with a bubblehead charm, providing her with a steady stream of smoke-less air.

' _Why didn't I think of that?'_ She thought as she batted away a barrage of spells aimed at her by a pair of Death Eaters.

Conjuring a couple of dozen needles, Daphne hurled them at her hapless foes, forcing them to dodge deeper into the sea of flames, screaming in agony as they burned to death.

Harry gave her a look and they were off again, back towards where they came, desperate to find a way out, Harry moved gingerly with a heavy limp and a listless left shoulder as they continued their fruitless search for safety.

' _This can't be how it ends.'_ She, thought, finding her previous acceptance of death had disappeared almost instantaneously. She had so much to do, so much to see.

"POTTER!"

A raspy voice roared through the flames.

"Come out and face your destiny."

"Dolohov." She saw Harry mouth through his bubblehead charm.

The pair spread out, in an attempt to split the man's vision.

' _Damn he's fast.'_ She thought as the trio dueled in earnest.

Even with his attention favoring Harry, she was too slow to hit the slippery Death Eater.

' _What the fuck!'_ She thought, her frustration rising.

Across the valley Harry was also having trouble landing a spell as the man rolled out of the way of another barrage of her boyfriend's barrages.

Getting back to his feet, Daphne had to react on instinct as she conjured a stone wall to intercept the deadly green light.

Next to her she watched in horror as Harry, in an attempt to save her, took an unknown spell to the arm.

Dolohov seemed to be pleased with himself, providing her with the opening she had been looking for.

"Crucio!" She bellowed, hatred dripping from her voice as the violent red spell erupted from her wand and attached itself to Dolohov.

She watched in sadistic satisfaction as the man convulsed in pain while Harry got back to his feet.

"Very impressive. Miss Greengrass."

The unfamiliar voice cut through the dying flames, causing Harry's face to take on a horrified expression before a second, more familiar voice caused him to smirk in satisfaction.

"It's good to see you again, Tom." The familiar voice of her headmaster echoed through the valley as the Dark Lord laughed in delight.

He and the unconscious girl arrived in the dark alley with a soft _*pop*_ to the sound of singing emitting from the beast bar the "Randy Unicorn" shared an alleyway with.

Ignoring the greetings of the two other men in the alleyway, Antonin cancelled the levitation charm holding the ambassadors daughter in the air, dropping her into his waiting arms.

He took a moment to grope the girls developing form before opening his eyes to direct the grunts in front of him.

"You two." He snapped. "Let's go. The dark lord doesn't tolerate tardiness."

While one man responded by walking towards the bar, the second gave him an annoyed look, as if he wanted to say something before thinking better of it.

' _Someone's a bit cranky.'_ He thought with glee, personally delighting in the late-night meetings.

" _Our Lord is at his peak in the hours before dawn."_ Augustus had said.

Levitating the Patil girl once more, Antonin made to enter the bar when a faint voice caught his attention.

" _Is that Dolohov?"_

' _Am I being followed?'_

He found it unlikely, he was far too careful to allow that to happen, which meant the bar was being watched, but by who?

' _Younger male, under disillusionment.'_ That's what the voice profile told him.

' _Potter?'_ He smiled to himself as he entered the bar. _'I will be rewarded.'_

Dropping the girl into his arms once more, he quickly activated his portkey, arriving at the opening in the woods a half-second later.

Under the guise of disillusionment, he and the unconscious girl waited as Dobbs, Travers, and Higgs all dutifully made their way into the clearing and towards the willow.

' _Where are George and Rudolph, I wonder?'_

He was answered a half second later when two figures, one male the other female, appeared in ill-fitting robes.

Dolohov watched in interest as Potter, and who he assumed was the remaining Greengrass fitted the robes to themselves before affixing their masks and heading down the path leading towards a familiar willow.

He stalked ahead quietly, doing best to not to make any noise as he stalked the pair, remaining just out of sight.

"Where're George and Rudolph?" Dobbs asked right as he was arriving at the willow.

He shrugged them off.

' _I wonder if they'll have the gall to enter?'_

"The drunks had to finish their drinks. We aren't responsible for them." He replied cockily.

Making a display of it, Dolohov stepped forward, showing his dark mark clearly to the willow as it let off a faint green glow, granting him access to the valley.

Once inside he waited for Travers to make his way through, pulling him aside.

"Take this." Antonin said, thrusting a portkey and the naked teenager into the blonde man's meaty hands.

"It will take you to our Lord, tell him that Potter and Greengrass have made their way to the valley."

The younger man gave a terse nod, activating the portkey and disappearing without a sound.

' _Sonorous.'_ He thought, taping his throat with his wand, amplifying his voice.

"Attention!" He said, the group of Death Eaters abandoning their conversations and turning to him.

He smiled at the power he was entrusted with by his lord.

"We are about to come under attack by Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass." He said, causing a rumbling of murmurs to erupt from the assembled death eaters.

"Get into position, and attack them when they arrive."

Quickly the death eaters dispersed, disappearing into the trees and behind the tall grass, ready to pounce at a moment's notice.

' _Any minute now.'_ Dolohov thought to himself from his broom high above the tree line.

He watched, impressed despite himself as Potter lit the forest ablaze with fiendfyre.

' _Too bad he can't control it.'_ He thought to himself a second later as the boy dispatched one of the death eaters.

He watched with interest as Greengrass picked off the men jumping from the trees.

' _Power and accuracy.'_ He knew Potter had it, but Greengrass as well?

He watched in interest for several more minutes, his lungs becoming harsh with smoke before becoming bored with being a spectator.

"POTTER!" He yelled dramatically.

"Come out and face your destiny."

The pair glanced at each other before splitting up, dividing his attention as much as they could.

' _Smart.'_ He thought to himself as he started his assault.

Instead of shielding like he had hoped, the duo dodged while Potter unleashed a particularly lethal spell chain.

With his attention focused on Potter, Greengrass took it upon herself to increase her velocity, causing him to roll forward to avoid the onslaught.

' _I'm not going to last much longer._ ' He thought as he exited his roll, clearly having underestimated his foes.

In desperation he shot off a killing curse at each of them, hoping to get lucky.

Potter dodged easily before turning his attention to help his girlfriend.

' _Stupid mistake, boy.'_ He thought as Greengrass's shield absorbed his killing curse, leaving Potter exposed.

A split second later Potter was howling in pain as chunks of skin fell off his body.

' _I wasted my opportunity._ ' He thought in a horrified daze as Potter disappeared from view.

A moment later his world erupted in pain.

A pair of torches illuminated the mirror he was gazing into as he inspected every inch of his self, doing his best to ensure that he looked his absolute best.

Vain, perhaps. But long ago he had learned that appearance was as important to his rise as his power.

His looks and his charm were weapons that were as important to his reign as his magic.

A good looking man had a way of drawing people in.

A well-dressed man was treated with respect.

A charming man persuaded those to his point of view.

A couple simple flicks later and his robes, hair, and teeth were perfect, leaving him with a few minutes to spare before the start of his meeting.

He sat in peaceful meditation as the other occupants of the room watched from the corners motionlessly, knowing better than to interrupt their lord.

Searching deep within the recesses of his mind he found the edges of his soul.

Looking out over the dark void he could feel his souls _pain_ at having been fractured, filling Voldemort with a sense of unfamiliar sorrow.

' _What is wrong with me?'_

He had long accepted that there would be consequences for his actions, but he never thought they'd be so _capricious._

Muffled voices drew him from his meditation.

"Dolohov sent me – "

"I don't care who sent you." Bellatrix snarled. "Our lord is not to be disturbed!"

"It's okay, Bella." He said quietly, his red orbs resting on Travers, who was levitating Ambassador Patils favored daughter. "What message did Antonin wish to convey?"

Glancing nervously at Bellatrix, Travers calmed himself before looking passed him and at the mirror behind him.

"He told me to tell you that Potter and Greengrass have found the valley."

He felt his good mood better considerably at the news – Potter was beginning to become a thorn in his side, a chance to kill him while at his most predictable was an opportunity too good to pass up.

' _It's highly unlikely that Dumbledore knows where Potter is."_ There was almost no risk in the situation.

"Thank you." He said dismissively, waiting for the man to leave before turning towards the other occupants in the room.

"Severus, Lucius, you two stay behind." The two men nodded in obedience leaving him alone with Bellatrix.

Her spat with Lucius had gone on far enough. It would do him no good to have them on each other's throats.

"Go to the Greengrass house and see if they left anything of interest behind."

"Yes, my lord."

Bellatrix nodded before disappearing with a soft _*pop.*_

He arrived to an unexpected ocean of hell fire, the atmosphere saturated with magic.

' _Did Potter lose control of fiendfyre?'_ He said, chuckling to himself at the thought.

Even if Potter had the power to control such a spell, he found it highly unlikely that he would be able to maintain that control during battle.

Apparently he had been right.

Voldemort easily extinguished the flames enough to reveal Antonin screaming in agony while a school girl stood over him.

' _Worthless.'_

The girls face was twisted into a satisfied grin that reminded him of the child's great aunt.

"Very impressive, Miss Greengrass." He found himself saying.

"Your aunt Ophelia would be so proud."

The girl looked around in confusion, the remnants of smoke and steam obscuring her view of him.

Potter, however, seemed to recognize his voice, if his terrified reaction was anything to go by.

"It's good to see you again, Tom." An annoyingly familiar voice responded from across the charred battlefield.

' _He must be tracking Potter.'_

He chastised himself at his simple mistake.

' _No matter.'_ The old man had no hope of defeating him when Voldemort was at his peak, they both knew that.

"It's good to see you again as well, Albus." He said, giving the headmaster his most charming smile.

He was relieved when the headmaster arrived with Bill and Remus right as Voldemort was preparing to kill him and Daphne.

"It's good to see you again, Tom." The headmaster's serene voice cut through the smoldering battlefield with ease.

"It's good to see you again, as well, Albus." Voldemort's tone was engaging and polite, as if welcoming an old friend.

While the headmaster and the dark lord talked, Bill used the distraction to cut across the valley towards Daphne, quickly enveloping her in a hug as the pair disappeared.

Sighing in relief he turned his attention back to Dolohov as Voldemort and Dumbledore began their duel in earnest.

Ignoring the shouting form of Remus Lupin, Harry directed his wand back towards the recovering Antonin Dolohov.

His first spell – a bonebreaker – found its mark, hitting the older death eater in the ribs.

Thick, dark blood began to drip from the enraged death eater's mouth as he responded in earnest, shooting jets of black lightning his way.

Harry conjured a rubber wall, absorbing the tendrils of lightning before shooting off a few spells of his own.

Dolohov jumped to the side and Harry charged forward, showering the area with spells as he tried to predict the man's movements.

Long black hair flung to and fro as the lanky death eater pirouetted nimbly around the onslaught, his wand remaining in motion the entire time.

Harry batted the death eater's first spell off towards Voldemort before redirecting Dolohov's disembowelment curse back towards the caster.

The older man stepped to the side, returning fire with a wide-area severing charm.

Erecting a gold shield, the severing charm bounced off his shield as Harry tapped himself on the head.

The feeling as though an egg was being cracked over his head overcame him, telling him his disillusionment charm had taken root.

The lack of visibility made him impossible to see as Dolohov threw curses around the valley with reckless abandon.

"You can't hide forever, child!" Dolohov roared, firing a quartette of killing curses every which-way.

' _Shit.'_ He thought, dropping his disillusionment charm to avoid a killing curse.

Dolohov's eyes widened in surprise when he saw how close they now were.

Harry smiled victoriously as he raised his wand to finish off the sadistic bastard.

"Avada – "

From off to the side a purple spell from the other duel jetted his way, causing him to dive to the ground and into a severing charm.

He howled in pain as a thin membrane held his left shoulder to his body.

Dolohov took the distraction as an opportunity to retake the upper hand, putting some distance between the two before slashing his wand downward in a dramatic fashion emitting a copper spell that was quickly absorbed into the earth.

' _Dammit, Potter!'_ He scolded himself at his inability to finish off his opponent as the ground fractured and lava flowed up through the fissures.

' _It can be regrown.'_ He thought, severing his useless appendage as he tried to avoid the lava.

Conjuring up a tornado of fire, Harry directed it towards his target, causing the older man to abandon his onslaught.

Dealing with the fire left the man vulnerable, as he sent a multitude of spikes towards Dolohov, causing the man's eyes to widen in fear as one of the spikes impaled his thigh.

He smiled sadistically as he again prepared for the finishing blow.

A burst of pain shooting through his body caused him to falter and yell out in pain as he dropped his wand.

Looking down he could see the flesh on the side of his torso beginning to rot and ooze puss.

Slowly the rot spread as Harry did everything in his power to counter the spells effects.

From off to his side he felt something impact his torso before losing consciousness.

Albus Dumbledore didn't respond, choosing instead to respond by conjuring a stampede of buffalo, directing them his way.

The ground shook and he cackled in delight – he hadn't felt this alive in months!

Taking a trick out of Potter's book, Voldemort casually exterminated the beasts with a vat of fiendfyre before following up the flames with a hoard of hyenas.

Off to the side he was aware that Antonin and the boy were locked in an intense duel.

The fire cleared and the headmaster killed the hyenas with ease leaving the man and his gaudy blood-covered cream and lime green robes, glistening in the dull light of the moon.

Albus responded with gusto.

Using the ash and debris to his advantage, the transfiguration master turned a pile of ash and embers into a large dragon.

As the animation barreled down on him, Voldemort hoped to the side, responding with a quick _'Aqua Erecto'_ to absorb the dragon.

Without missing a beat, he froze the water into one solid sheet of ice before directing it back at the old man.

Before the wall of ice could be destroyed by the headmaster, Voldemort blew it to a thousand small, sharp pieces, directing them towards the headmaster.

Off to the side he was disappointed to see Antonin struggling with the boy who looked as though he was about to murder his best torturer.

' _I can't have that.'_ He thought before firing off a quick spell towards Potter.

In front of him Dumbledore summoned the shards of ice that had impacted him and was busy redirecting them back his way.

A ball of flame took care of the ice, but left him vulnerable to the blasting curse that impacted his side, leaving a chunk of his rib cage in ruins.

Not wasting time healing himself, Voldemort mimicked Dumbledore, summoning piles of ash and debris and sending them high into the atmosphere before releasing the spell.

Fire rained out of the sky as Dumbledore, following his instincts erected a massive Merlin Shield, protecting the occupants of the area from harm.

Quickly he fired off a killing curse, hoping to catch the old man while he was distracted.

Voldemort howled in frustration when Dumbledore, at the last possible moment, conjured a bird to intercept the curse.

A scream off to the side directed him back towards Potter, who had just finished severing his own arm.

' _Impressive, Potter.'_

The earth shook as Dumbledore tried to disorient him with a thunder clap, following it up by flinging acid his way.

He successfully disappeared three of the four globs of acid until the fourth disintegrated his arm, leaving a grizzled mess of bone and ligaments.

As he cauterized the wound he idly noticed that Antonin was dealing with something in his thigh.

' _Potter's going to win that fight.'_ He thought to himself. _'I can't allow that to happen.'_

Ignoring his own predicament, Voldemort shot several curses towards Potter, the rotting curse ringing true.

Across from him Dumbledore's eyes widened in shock – the spell would kill the boy in minutes unless it was slowed down, and within a few hours unless it was countered.

Dumbledore quickly shot a spell Potter's way, saving him from an imminent death before reaching into his robes and removing a totem, banishing it towards Potter.

He grinned viciously at the opportunity that had presented itself before taking aim.

' _Lacerare Furtis!'_

Time seemed to slow down as the violent yellow orb of light leapt out of his wand.

Slowly Albus Dumbledore seemed to notice the spell heading his way as he turned to face him, his eyes widening in surprise as the spell removed the man's head clean from his neck.

Laughing manically, Voldemort gathered Antonin and the dead body of Albus Dumbledore, and disappeared.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter

* * *

He sat in restless meditation in his room, waiting for his alarm to tell him it was safe to proceed.

' _2:00'_ His watch read.

' _30 more minutes.'_ He told himself, more than a little anxious.

He had been planning for this moment for weeks.

' _Desperate hazel eyes met him as she clung to his robes, blood seeping from her pores.'_

Draco tried to shake the memory from his mind as he attempted to meditate, to no avail.

He had long since stopped asking his father for the truth about that night, he may not be a legilimens but he knew when his own father was lying to him, if he wasn't going to give him answers, Draco would have to find them on his own.

" _Daphne thinks it was us."_

" _It wasn't." He had said with finality._

" _Sir." He pleaded. "If you know something, please tell me."_

He hadn't.

Astoria deserved better.

Draco was on his feet the second the alarm sounded, wand in hand as he made his way from his room down the long hallway separating his wing of the mansion from the main area of the home, hanging a left at a stationary portrait, past the ballroom and to the concealed staircase behind a shelf of books in the main atrium.

Tapping the right book combination revealed a narrow staircase.

Lighting his wand, Draco took the stairs downwards, towards his father's study.

For all his public caution, his father had a tendency to let his guard down while at home, where he barely concealed his movements.

He had become predictable.

Still, leaving for a meeting with the Dark Lord on Wednesdays at 2 in the morning was a bit odd.

Confidently crossing into the study, Draco let his eyes wander around the impeccable room - uncertain of exactly what he was searching for.

Making his way passed the shelves lined with trinkets and various photos and towards the large oak desk he was quick to cast a diagnostics charm in case his father had felt the need for security.

Unsurprised by the lack of security, Draco began thumbing through the drawers on the off-chance that his father had left something of value in plain sight.

Finding nothing, he turned back to the desk itself – his father having commissioned it before he was born.

It had been a Goyle creation, and the man was sure to understand his fathers need for discretion.

Getting on his hands and knees, Draco ran his hands over every inch of the desk, searching for some lever to something that would give him answers.

Sighing in frustration, he sat down in the comfortable desk chair.

' _Maybe there's nothing here?'_

Did his father have a secret study he didn't know about?

That didn't make sense, this _was_ well-hidden enough.

' _Goyle also made the chair.'_ He remembered.

Refocusing his efforts, Draco stood up to examine the chair, again running his hands over every inch, smiling when he felt how loose the front left leg appeared to be.

Following his instincts, Draco pulled the leg off of the chair and grinned.

Inside the hollowed out leg were several pieces of worn parchment.

' _ **Record of Death'**_

He let his eyes read over the ministry's official report of his grandfather's death, curious as to why his father would have kept it hidden.

Turning his attention to the second group of parchment, Draco was greeted with his father's familiar cursive attached to a hierarchy with a single name at the top.

'Bellatrix Lestrange.'

' _Why is father investigating Aunt Bellatrix?'_

Greedily he dug in, his eyes widening as he read.

' _No record of importation by either the ministry or the dark lord…Octavius denies signing off on the importation of a dragon's lung.'_

He continued to read in silence, his original mission all but forgotten.

' _Aunt Bellatrix killed Lord Malfoy.'_ Was the conclusion his father had appeared to reach.

"You mustn't tell your mother."

A familiar, quiet voice said from the doorway.

"Sir!" Draco replied, embarrassed at having been caught snooping.

His father seemed torn between exhaustion and anger before his face appeared to droop, the exhaustion having won out.

It was jarring; Lord Malfoy was Lord Malfoy, even at home.

"What happened?" He said, quietly making his way over to his father.

Lucius eyed him for a long moment before motioning for him to sit.

Reaching inside his desk, his father removed two glasses and a dusty bottle of firewhisky.

"Don't tell your mother about this conversation either." His father added, handing him a half-full glass of amber.

"Potter and Greengrass attacked a Death Eater meeting tonight."

He nearly spit out his firewhisky.

"What happened?" He asked.

' _How could Potter and Greengrass get the drop on the Dark Lord?'_

"They followed an associate, and killed a dozen men and women." His father said in disgust.

There was clearly more to the story, but he knew not to push.

"Are they dead?"

He honestly didn't care about Potter, but Daphne was Astoria's sister, and Astoria had loved her.

His father shook his head. "No. But they caught the dark lord's attention."

He took another small sip of whisky, accepting his father's answer. He had come to realize how dangerous his two classmates were.

"He came?"

Lucius smiled for the first time. "He killed Dumbledore."

' _He killed Dumbledore?'_

Draco didn't know what to say so he said nothing as they drank in silence for several minutes.

"Sir?"

His father gave him an inquisitive look.

"Who killed the Greengrass family?"

His father gave him a long look before finishing the rest of his whisky and pouring himself another.

"Your new Headmistress."

* * *

Having received her orders, Bellatrix disappeared from the room with a soft *pop* landing softly in a moonlight field just outside of where she knew Greengrass Estate was located.

Finding the unassuming limestone that marked the property's ward line, Bellatrix removed the schematics she had received from Yaxley, and began following Septima's handwritten instructions on how to bypass the wards that protected the sprawling estate.

It had been years since she had passed through the wards protecting the picturesque scenery of Greengrass estate, and even though it was dark she could see the rolling hills that led up to the quaint familial manor.

Apparating to the back patio, Bellatrix eyed the quit home with suspicion, having never been able to completely trust the quiet calm of an empty home.

" _You have talent, child…"_

She shook the phantom voice from her mind and pushed her way into the familiar home, pausing in dismay when she saw the old training room had been turned into a dining room.

 _She shifted her weight on to her bended knee, panting heavily in pain and exhaustion._

" _You must be relentless in your attacks, Bellatrix!" The old bitch prodded, sending a stinging curse at her prone form._

" _The fight isn't over until your enemy is dead!"_

 _Determined violet eyes met that of her mentors._

" _Yes Ophelia!"_

Bellatrix made her way to the library, pausing at a vase of roses just outside the miniscule room to prick her finger on a thorn.

The vase glowed, allowing Bellatrix safe passage into the room.

Once inside she ignored the books and headed towards where she knew the pensieve would be, hoping she wasn't too late.

It would be no good for anyone if those memories fell into the wrong hands.

She was only slightly surprised to be greeted by an empty shelf. The mission had been a longshot based on hope.

" _Hopes not a strategy."_

She growled, even in death the old bitch wouldn't leave her alone.

Emotion didn't register on her face as she stalked away out of the house and back to the property line, pausing just outside the wards at the unassuming limestone.

Interweaving a simple monitoring ward on the property, Bellatrix silently disappeared.

* * *

He nearly fell to the ground as he and Greengrass arrived in the small cottage in the middle of the North Sea.

Lifting himself up, Bill gave her an once-over with a frown, recognizing the symptoms of severe curse damage immediately.

"Dearborn!" He yelled, hoping that the healer had arrived while he and Dumbledore had been away.

A sleepy man in his late fifties made his presence known with a yawn, springing into action the second he saw the shape of the girl.

"What happened?" He asked Greengrass in alarm as he began casting a slew of diagnostics.

"I was hit with the cruciatus curse for maybe six seconds." Her voice was calm even as the torchlight exposed a spider's web of burst blood vessels covering her now exposed torso.

"What the hell were you two even doing there?" He raged, rounding on the girl.

' _Do they realize how much work they've undone?'_

Greengrass didn't cower, raising an eyebrow in annoyance and stroking the flames of his rage even further.

"We saw Dolohov enter that pub with a naked Padma Patil." She said softly. "What would you have us do?"

Her explanation was rational, even if her resulting actions weren't; it's exactly what he would have done in such a situation.

He wasn't buying her faux concern.

"Don't feed me that bullshit!" He roared. "You don't care about the girl!"

As far as he could tell the only person Daphne Greengrass truly cared about was Potter, she was apathetic – at best – towards everyone else.

Greengrass sat still for several seconds before responding with a shrug.

"No. I don't." She started as the healer shoved several vials into her hands. "Truth be told I find her and her sister to be gossipy little cunts, but she doesn't deserve the fate she's going to get."

Her curt response caused him to take pause – is this really who Dumbledore wanted in the Order? Violent sociopaths who had little regard for the damage being done to their society by Voldemort?

"Where is she?"

For the first time a flash of emotion came across the girls damaged face; "I don't know. We were ambushed the second we arrived and all hell broke loose."

Her answer was cut off by the arrival of an unconscious body missing an arm sporting a rotting torso.

Across from him Greengrass covered her mouth in horror at the arrival of her boyfriend, who was followed a half a second later by an uninjured Remus Lupin.

"Holy shit." Dearborn deadpanned before turning to Greengrass. "You'll have to wait."

Greengrass nodded her head dumbly, the first trace of genuine emotion he had seen from the girl since they had arrived.

"Where's Dumbledore?" He asked the werewolf whose focus was taken by Potter.

"Sorry?" He responded, turning towards him slightly.

Feeling his temper rise once more, Bill took several calming breaths.

"Where's Albus?"

Remus turned back towards him, seemingly unconcerned. "He was buying us some time, he'll be here in a few minutes."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Bill made his way towards the comfortable leather chair in the corner, letting his body sink into the squishy leather, he felt his eyes begin to droop.

" _It will take a few days, but you should regain full mobility."_ Dearborn's voice woke him with a start.

The rising sun lit the room, revealing a now sitting up Potter with a new arm.

"What about this?" Potter's weak voice tapered off as he motioned towards his torso.

"You'll carry the scars for the rest of your life, but you'll make a full recovery."

"Thank Merlin!" Greengrass's relieved voice rang out.

Tuning out Potter's medical report he turned towards Remus.

"Where's Albus?"

The older werewolf frowned.

"I don't know. He still hasn't returned." The lack of communication was unlike Albus and Bill felt himself fearing for the worst.

' _This is Potters fault.'_

If Potter had bothered to show up to the meetings he demanded he be allowed to attend, he would have known better.

"Do you know what you've done?" He spat towards the boy, drawing the attention of the room.

Potter eyed him with a cocky smile.

"Crippled Voldemort's forces and more-than-likely killed a member of his inner-circle."

' _Arrogant shit.'_

"You attacked a bar we had been monitoring for months!"

"My classmate was in danger." Potter countered.

"You should've got us!" If Potter had come to them, then they could have made it work.

"They would have been long gone by then!"

Potter was right and he knew it. But that didn't mean it was worth it.

"Patil is already gone." Bill stated. "You failed and now Dumbledore is missing, that's on you. And if it turns out he's dead, well that's on you too."

Potters mood sank. "You cannot put that on me."

"Really? I can't?" He replied sarcastically. "You mean even if you hadn't supported your girlfriends little revenge tour Dumbledore would have still sought out a duel with the dark lord and he would still would be missing?"

Potter didn't respond, choosing to glare instead.

"You two are out of the Order." He stated matter-of-factly. Dumbledore be damned, the _children_ were too impulsive to be trusted.

Potter shrugged, not seeming to care either way.

"Fine. Get off my property."

He hadn't considered that – they were using property Potter had inherited from Sirius.

' _Would he really be that petty? He's got plenty of property.'_ Property they needed. Property where Order members could flee to in safety.

"No." He replied. "This place is too important. You have plenty of places to live. People need this place."

A flash of anger came across Potter's face.

"Why would I live in this shithole?" He spat. "This is probably the least hospitable of the properties I own, that's hardly the point. This is private property, you are only here because I let you be here. Leave."

"We need it more than you." He shot back. "You can have it back after the war."

In a flash Greengrass had her wand out and trained on him.

"Get out or I'll force you out." She snarled, her wand pointed firmly between his eyes.

He fought the urge to laugh at the child as he prepared to retort.

Calmly Remus put himself between the two. "Bill I think it would be best if you left." The werewolf said. "We can have this conversation after we've all calmed down."

He snarled at the three before turning on his heel and heading for the door.

"If something happened to Dumbledore, it's on the two of you." He repeated boldly over his shoulder before apparating away.

* * *

"Good morning, Penelope."

Corban's nervous voice cracked slightly, causing her to smile softly at the unassuming man.

"Good morning Corban, where are you headed today?" Penelope asked, quill ready to record the comings and goings of the restricted section of the ministry the elevators behind her led to, her mind drifting off as she did so.

She remembered what Patricia had said about the man after he had swung by the reception desk last week.

" _Corban Yaxley is good friends with Septima Vector!"_

That piece of information had grabbed the attention of the former Ravenclaw Prefect, Professor Vector had always been her favorite.

"Floor six." He sputtered quickly. "Financial records, please." Corban finished with a nervous smile.

' _Records again?'_

She yearned to understand what he found so fascinating that Yaxley had to continually spend his free time searching through ministry records.

"Happy birthday, by the way." He rushed out. "I know I'm a few days late, but I'd heard it was recently your birthday."

She offered him a pretty smile – she had turned nineteen last week, the night she had spent out with friends had been more than worth the hungover morning she had spent at work.

"Thank you, Corban." She said graciously.

"Maybe I could buy you a drink tonight to celebrate?" He followed up, his voice full of hope.

Internally she cringed but externally she gave him an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry Corban, I'm seeing someone."

' _At least sometimes I am. Depends on the night, really.'_ Either way, a date with the boring pureblood didn't interest her.

A brief sneer flashed across Corbans features, exposing a side of himself Penelope hadn't seen, leaving her mildly unsettled before settling back into its normal configuration.

"I had to ask." He said with a fake laugh. "Have a great day, Penelope." He said, stalking off.

Penelope sat in thought for several long moments before removing the journal given to her by Fred.

Opening it up she dipped her quill in her inkpot before composing her message.

There was a limitless amount of information on the sixth floor, a Yaxley visiting that department a half-dozen times in three months was bound to be worth something to the twins.

' _And whoever they're working for.'_ She added silently, not convinced that they were spending money on information of their own volition.

That mystery had kept her mind occupied. Who was she really reporting to? Dumbledore? The Ministry? The International Confederation of Wizards?

' _We need to talk.'_ She wrote.

Penelope didn't have to wait long before Fred's untidy scrawl appeared in response.

' _Gelded Griffin, 18:00.'_

Smiling devilishly at the unspoken promise of free drinks.

' _More money for the weekend.'_

Penelope put the journal back in her bag before turning her attention back to that morning's copy of the _'Daily Prophet'_ a content smile resting on her face.

* * *

She arrived at Harry's London home at precisely 11 am as requested and was greeted by a friendly face.

"Andromeda!" She said greeting her former year mate with a hug. "It's good to see you again."

"It's great to see you as well, Minister." The brunette said with a coy smirk.

Amelia felt her cheeks color lightly. "Please, Andi. Never refer to me as Minister when I'm not on official business."

Andi raised a single eyebrow. "You're not here on official business?"

She frowned. Officially visiting with two representatives representing three votes in the Wizengamot would be front page news and confirm what the public already believes about what happened in that Scottish valley.

"I only wish to talk to the two of them, nothing more."

As a barrister Andromeda Tonks was more than capable, it was best to be honest to her old friend.

Andi stared at her for several long moments.

"Nymphadora!" She called out.

Half a minute later an athletic woman with bubblegum pink hair and full lips joined the two of them in the atrium.

Despite her best efforts, Britain's foremost duelist retained the bone structure and eyes of her mother.

"Please make sure Minister Bones remains comfortable while I go talk to my clients."

Andi's tone conveyed her message as the woman's daughter eyed her with suspicion while her mother went to talk to Harry and Greengrass.

The two stared at each other awkwardly for several long moments before Amelia broke the silence.

"With the return of Voldemort the ministry could use your talents."

While Minister DuPont had kindly sent three hundred French aurors to supplement their forces, another capable wand would be more than welcome, and having Britain's best duelist fighting for them would be a public relations victory.

A dumbstruck look came across the young woman's face before an amused smirk settled in.

"Work for the ministry?" The thought looked as though it was a great source of amusement for the younger woman.

"As tempting as it is to work all those hours for eight thousand galleons a year." She said as though seriously considering her proposal. "I think I'll continue my fruitful dueling career while moonlighting as a tutor to the young and wealthy, thank you very much."

' _Was that necessary?'_

"A simple 'no' would have sufficed." She replied curtly.

At that moment her old friend returned and, much to her relief, dispatched of her rather rude daughter.

"You will speak to them together, I will be present the entire time, and only I will maintain a recording of the questioning, is that understood?"

She frowned at the restrictions but readily agreed – it wasn't as though she had much leverage; although rumors had circled about their involvement there was no proof that they were actually there.

Harry looked as though he was in pain while the tremors in Daphne Greengrass's hands all but confirmed the rumors as the two teenagers sat stoically across from her in the glum homes study.

She had arrived hoping to dispel of the disturbing rumors surrounding the pair, but sitting before them she knew that they were all likely to be true.

The realization put her in a tough position. She couldn't have vigilante's taking justice into their own hand; not Dumbledore's little group and especially not two fifteen year olds.

Yet they were only fifteen, what was she going to do, send them to Azkaban? Not only would it be nearly impossible, but something told her that the likelihood of them voluntarily turning themselves in was next to none.

"I want to start off by saying that this isn't an investigation into the two of you, and whether or not the two of you were involved in the incident the other night in any way cannot be proven one way or the other."

Greengrass seemed to be more politically astute than Harry, if the recognition in her eyes was anything to go off of.

"If it cannot but proven, then why are you here?" The girl responded.

"There have been no witnesses or leads in the case. Just the Dark Mark and a burning valley in Scotland. Rumors are nice, but facts are better."

Daphne nodded before giving Andi a certain look.

"Nothing you gather here is admissible in court, Amelia. That includes memories." Andi reminded her softly.

Seeing that she was going to get more than she had hoped for she nodded her head politely in recognition. "Of course."

Harry reached into his robe, setting a crystal vial with a milky white substance floating in it down on the table in front of them without saying a word.

She frowned at his silence but accepted the memory nonetheless.

"Mrs. Tonks will see you out." Greengrass said softly as she helped a grimacing Harry Potter to his feet. "Thank you for your visit, Minister."

* * *

She gave him a little wave as he walked passed, returning from yet another trip to the sixth floor – this time to 'Ancestral Records.'

Corban either didn't see her gesture, or was still ignoring her since she had rejected his advances the other day.

Either way Penelope didn't care. He had stroked her curiosity, leaving her desperate to untangle the mystery behind what he was up to.

' _Maybe I should have took him up on that drink after all?'_ He looked lonely, and probably would have told her anything.

She scolded herself at the wasted opportunity, standing up gracefully as Yaxley rounded the corner.

"Patricia I'm going to take a quick break." She quipped

"Again?" The older woman groaned.

"Just for a few minutes, I'll buy the drinks tonight, kay?"

The older woman nodded in acceptance and turned back to her puzzle, uninterested in whatever Penelope was up to.

She played with a loose strand of brown hair while she waited for the lift, eager to get to the bottom of her little mystery.

A short ride and a few smiles later found Penelope wading through old signature reads, searching for the signature of Yaxley.

Each room on the sixth floor recorded a person's magical signature upon entering and exiting; while nobody ever checked these records unless necessary, it had proven to be an effective mode of security.

' _What the hell?'_ She thought, pausing as she came across his name in the day's records.

Corban hadn't been anywhere near the ancestral records room, spending all of his time in the 'Security' section.

' _But Corban works in security.'_

Why would he lie to her? It would have been _normal_ for him to visit the security records room on occasion. It was his lying about it that made it suspicious.

Picking up the enchanted quill next to the book of records, Penelope decided to filter by Corbans name and gasped at the results.

' _Twenty five visits over two months?'_ That _wasn't_ normal. Even for someone who worked in security.

Penelope smiled to herself deviously as she jotted down the information on the page in front of her, recognizing an opportunity for some easy money.

' _I'll give it to him over dinner AND drinks.'_ She thought to herself as she left the room in a significantly better mood than when she had arrived.

* * *

He sat in the quiet dark of his home on Spinners End, savoring the spice of the whisky in his glass, staring emptily at the space on the wall adjacent to him.

" _Dumbledore is dead."_

That's what Lucius had said, but without confirmation from the dark lord he was hesitant to believe it.

The death of Albus Dumbledore would likely pave way for the ascent of Septima Vector as Headmistress of Hogwarts.

"Here's to you, Septima." He said with a bitter laugh, raising his glass in salute to the spy who had played the game better than he ever could, ruthlessly removing her competition as she murdered her way to the top.

But what to do with that information?

That was the million galleon question. He wasn't even sure that the information held any value to him, not with Albus gone.

Finishing off the amber liquid brought him back to how he had acquired that particular piece of information to begin with, sprouting a more interesting question in his mind.

' _What do I do?'_

Self-preservation had always been in Severus's nature; letting the Dark Lord know that Lucius had all but told him to tell Dumbledore the identity of Bellatrix's spy at Hogwarts, informing him of Lucius's betrayal would validate his worth, something he would need now that Albus was gone and his usefulness was evaporating.

Informing the dark lord would serve the dual purpose of sentencing his only friend to death, leaving him responsible for Lucius's brat, while possibly saving his own life.

With a heavy sigh Severus poured himself another glass, determined to drown the thought from his mind.

* * *

Augusta tapped her foot impatiently in the corner of the dull room.

"Come on, get on with it." She muttered to herself.

A few chairs down the Longbottom matriarch saw her favorite duelist stifle a laugh, causing her to smile slightly.

"With the presence of Albus Dumbledore currently unknown –" Lucius Malfoy, Chairman of Hogwarts Board of Governors pontificated.

From across the room she witnessed Parkinson and Flint share a knowing glance, confirming her fears.

' _Dumbledore isn't missing, he's dead.'_

It had been difficult for her to fathom that Albus Dumbledore would simply allow himself to disappear. He cared too much, he would never let his friends worry about him, not like this.

Which meant that Albus had either been captured or killed, and Augusta couldn't imagine a man of Albus's stature would allow himself to become a prisoner.

"He sure loves the sound of his own voice." The young Tonks girl muttered.

This time it was Augusta's turn to smile despite the situation.

' _Albus would remind us of the importance of humor.'_ She thought, a said tear rolling down her wrinkled cheek.

Her old friend's jokes had never been particularly good, but maybe that had been what had made them so brilliant.

She assumed the Tonks girl was here representing the Black and Greengrass votes, wielding her power like a hammer.

' _Their votes will go towards Septima.'_ She frowned; to be appointed Head of Hogwarts you needed a majority of the thirteen votes, Septima only needed five more to secure her victory.

The woman was far too young to take on the role of Headmistress. Pomona, on the other hand, had served the castle dutifully for forty years.

"- we have heard debate on the nominees to replace Albus Dumbledore until he returns to us."

Again Flint and Parkinson shared a knowing look.

' _Albus deserves better than this charade.'_ The man deserved a hero's funeral, at the least.

"and will now vote on the candidates; Deputy Headmistress and Head of Ravenclaw Septima Vector, and Head of Hufflepuff Pomona Sprout."

She couldn't be the only one who wasn't fooled by this act, could she?

"-and for Pomona Sprout?"

Augusta dutifully raised her hand in support of her old friend.

She glanced back towards the impressive young woman to her left.

If rumors were true than Nymphadora Tonks likely knew her friends fate.

"Congratulations to Septima Vector, our interim Headmistress!" Malfoy said to vociferous applause.

' _I need to talk to her.'_

* * *

"Is there a particular way it must be done?"

Sometimes he questioned the intelligence of his disciples. _'Is this how the dark lord feels about his Death Eaters?'_

Marcel smiled at his unwitting assistant. "Murder is murder."

The boy gave him a determined look, unbothered by his gruesome task, he was a violent sociopath and knew it.

Of his disciples only Maurice had enough of an aptitude in occlumency to be of any help on this particular experiment.

The experiment in question had been the result of a conversation he had had with the dark lord regarding the man's rather _unique_ situation.

Nothing could ever replace the pieces of soul the dark lord had lost, but could there be a substitute, something to bring him close to normal, something that would stabilize him?

"Avada Kedavra!" Maurice shouted dispassionately, deadly green shooting from his wand, hitting his target square in the chest.

"Search within yourself." He said encouragingly. "Let me know when you have discovered your inner light."

Could the dark lord's un-whole soul mend itself with the soul of another? Was the soul regenerative? For his experiment to work did he need a soul similar to Tom Riddle's or would any old soul do?

There was so much to learn.

"I've found it." There was a layer of nervous excitement interwoven in his young disciple's voice.

"Very good, Maurice." He said, hoping he sounded encouraging as opposed to excited, why would he be excited for a simple ritual?

"Search for the purple glow."

The soul's nucleus was its weak point, applying enough pressure would cause it to fracture, his subject risked shattering his soul to a million pieces and driving himself mad, but the young man didn't know that, he doubted Maurice would have agreed otherwise.

"Found it." He said, his eyes shut in concentration, the boy's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Good." Marcel said, removing a small spoon.

This was going to be the hard part.

"Now do as we practiced." He commanded gently.

"Break it?" Maurice sounded unsure, his natural instincts overruling his desire for power.

"Do you want to reach your potential?"

Maurice exhaled nervously, jealousy made people take insane measures.

A second later the torches in the dimly lit chamber extinguished, leaving the two in an eerie, dark silence.

He raised his wand in anticipation of what was to come.

Maurice's mouth widened, emitting a shrill scream as a dark mist slowly exited the boy's mouth.

Activating the wards on the chamber wall, the mist became encompassed by a wall of magic forcing the mist still.

Calmly Marcel approached the boxed in soul, spoon in hand.

Slowly the necromancer began his chant as Maurice's restless soul fought to return to its host.

Soon the spoon began to glow before it lifted off the floor, levitating itself to the middle of the room where the still-fighting soul waited.

Slowly the screaming soul was absorbed by the spoon, leaving only a newly-conscious Maurice alone with Marcel in the chamber once more.

Before him Maurice's eyes darted around the room rapidly, spittle dripping from the side of his mouth.

' _He fried himself.'_

Marcel sighed. He had hoped to avoid that outcome, but it had always been a possibility.

' _Hopefully it wasn't in vain.'_ He thought to himself, waving his wand haphazardly over the spoon.

A victorious look morphed onto his face, the spoon emitting a light red hue.

' _For magic.'_

* * *

She watched from the shadows as he signed in, leisurely making his way to the lift, a smile on her face.

' _What are you up to?'_ She wondered as Yaxley disappeared from view.

Quickly she made her way to an adjacent lift, hitting six before watching the ancient doors close.

' _Fred's wrong.'_

She had thought her intelligence on Corban Yaxley had warranted far more than the ten galleons she had received.

" _You're profiling, Clearwater."_

Exiting the lift she didn't see Corban, but that hardly mattered, she knew where he was heading and would meet him in security records.

" _If you gather proof that Yaxley is up to something, I can give you up to forty galleons."_

Forty galleons would cover her bills for the month.

' _Maybe Majorca isn't out of the picture after all?'_ Lisa would be pleased. Her friend had been on her case for months about the need for a holiday, settling on the beautiful Spanish island.

' _There he is!'_ She thought, catching sight of the nondescript man sporting fashionable robes browsing a row with a 'W' painted on the sign hanging above.

' _What is he looking for?'_ She had no idea what the man was looking for, just that the number of times he had visited the same room, under false pretenses no-less, made him suspicious.

Discreetly Penny made her way past that row before turning down the row with an 'X' painted on a sign above it.

Through the shelves she could hear faint whispers, but couldn't make out what the man was mumbling to himself.

' _A little closer, Penny!'_ She urged herself, drowning out her nerves.

Slowly she inched forward, his raspy voice becoming clearer with each step.

"Weasley, Weasley, Weasley. Where the fuck is Weasley." Corbin groaned.

A sense of dread overcame her. _'What is in this room?'_

It was no secret that the Weasley's supported Dumbledore's side in the war effort – her ex had told her as much during her seventh year.

' _It is the security room.'_ She reminded herself, not quite knowing what that meant, but she knew it must be important for Yaxley to lie about his reasons for coming down to the sixth floor.

Inching closer, the floor creaked, causing Corban to spin around like a top, vigilant eyes glancing around the dark room, searching for the source of the disturbance.

She held her breath and remained perfectly still, not wanting to be caught spying on a pureblood.

Corbans sinister smile looked unnatural on his features as he glanced towards where she was hidden, his wand raised.

' _Shit, shit, shit.'_ She thought as she glanced around the room for an escape route.

Corban slashed his wand downwards and her eyes went wide.

The last thing Penny saw before the light hit her was Corban Yaxley's vicious smile.

* * *

 **A/N:** Very short chapter, but it made sense (from a layout standpoint) to end it here. Next up is fifth year.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP.**

 **A/N:** The story turns one today! With that said, I'm disappointed in myself, I expected to have the whole chapter finished but had to partition it to meet my self-imposed deadline.

* * *

They walked shoulder-to-shoulder hunched over through the narrow passage, guided by the light of his wand.

"Stupid cobwebs." He heard Daphne grumble from behind him. "Why aren't we using the hallways like normal students?"

From in front of her he rolled his eyes. The first week of their fifth year had been filled with nervous glances and hushed whispers, the rumors of their involvement in what the 'Prophet' had dubbed the "Inferno in the Valley" had shook not only their classmates, but their professors as well, if Deputy Headmistress Sprout was any indicator.

' _At least it has made prefect duties easier._ ' He thought to himself.

There had been a time when he had yearned to be a Prefect.

" _To be a Prefect is to be recognized as the best of the best!"_

His bushy-haired friend's enthusiasm had been contagious, he couldn't help but wonder what Hermione would have thought of the mundane meetings and late nights.

' _I bet she would have embraced them.'_ He thought with a smile.

He was ignored because of his insignificance back then.

These days nobody wanted to upset the great Harry Potter or his violent girlfriend for a much different reason.

The crowds generally parted like the Red Sea when they passed by, leaving small crowds of nervous students in their wake as they made their way through the second floor corridor with purpose.

" _She probably killed her family for the gold."_

The usually level-headed Michael Corner had leveled the accusation, telling him all he needed to know about their current standing in Britain.

" _Fuck them all."_

Daphne's flippant response had been expected, the pain she felt at such accusations have long since disappeared.

' _Or it's burrowed deep within her.'_

Even he was having trouble deciphering Daphne's mood these days.

The rationale side of his brain told Harry that his classmates had every right to be afraid with the Patil's and Terry still missing and the great Albus Dumbledore presumed dead.

" _This is only a temporary situation." Headmistress Vector began from the Deputy Headmistresses seat, glancing at the now-vacant spot that had been occupied by Albus Dumbledore for over forty years. "When Headmaster Dumbledore returns, he will resume his place as Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."_

The sparkle of optimism had drawn a smattering of nervous applause from the more idiotic of his classmates across the Great Hall.

Whether their idiocy was driven by fear or foolishness he did not know.

"You know why." He stated matter-of-factly as they exited the cramped passage and into the hallway leading to the second floor girl's lavatory.

She elbowed him roughly in the ribs, treating him to a rare smile, mischief dancing in her green eyes.

"All hail Dark Lord Potter!" She cackled in glee, causing the handful of students meandering about to scatter like cockroaches.

"And his fearsome Dark Mistress!" He added playfully.

His comment earned him another elbow to the ribs as Daphne raised her chin in superiority.

"A Greengrass is never a mistress!" She retorted in a perfect impression of Narcissa Malfoy, causing them both to breakout in genuine laughter.

With hardly a pause they made their way through the first group of illusions protecting Salazar Slytherin's chamber.

Behind him he felt Daphne begin to shiver as they made their way through the dank underbelly of the ancient school, unprepared for the psychological wards that lay ahead.

"Occlumency, Daph." He reminded her gently, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.

He felt her nod from behind him.

The occlumency couldn't protect her from the pain the cruel wards induced, and Daphne let out a pained cry as she clutched desperately at her abdomen.

"HARRY!" She yelled out, struggling to regain her composure.

It was taking all his self-restraint in that moment not to add her to the wards protecting the chamber.

' _It would only take a few seconds.'_

A drop of blood and she could move freely.

' _Daphne wouldn't want that.'_ He reminded himself.

And she wouldn't. The blonde relished the challenge.

' _Best not to anger her.'_

"It's all in your head, Daph." He reminded her affectionately.

"Right." She whispered softly, joining him in the wide atrium a few laborious seconds later.

He smiled inwardly as Daphne cast the correct diagnostic charm, eyeing her reaction eagerly.

"It's like nothing I've ever seen before." She replied, biting the bottom corner of her cherry red lips in thought.

He eyed her cautiously, debating how big of a hint she needed.

' _Plant the seed.'_

"Do you remember when we were discussing Teemu Kapponen's odd choice of protective wards on the Finnish Ministry?"

She nodded her head in thought.

"Concealment over misdirection."

' _She's almost there.'_

Do you remember his original idea?

She appeared lost in thought for a nearly a minute before recognition dawned on her pretty features.

Her face lit up, highlighting her charming dimples and pearly whites, before turning to him in excitement.

"Camouflage wards? Voldemort used _camouflage wards_?" She cackled, causing him to break out laughing.

"He did."

A familiar contemplative look came over her a half-second later.

"It's the exact opposite of what I would have expected." She said, dispatching of the wards with a few quick flicks.

"That's why it's so brilliant."

He gestured for Daphne to lead the way.

"If I hadn't given you a hint, you would have been there for hours."

She lost herself in thought for a moment, tapping her foot on the cold marble floor debating which of the three tunnels to take, before shrugging.

"Screw it," she said, "let's go straight."

Torches lit their path as they moved through the comfortable tunnel in silence for several minutes.

"Where do you suppose we are?" Daphne asked.

"I'm not sure."

He wasn't even sure they were in the Chamber of Secrets anymore, if he were being honest.

Tom Riddle had created more than one seemingly illogical passage on Hogwarts grounds; the tree outside the greenhouses somehow leading to the great hall springing to mind.

' _Illusion and complex arithmancy?'_

Slowly the path narrowed significantly and without notice, forcing them to stand shoulder to shoulder as they moved.

"It's a good thing you went on that diet over the summer, Harry." Daphne joked from behind him. "I'm not sure you could've fit had we done this in May."

' _At least she's in a good mood.'_

They went on like that for several meters before being deposited into a cramped circular room with no walls and an uneven brick surface.

"What do we do now?" Daphne pondered from behind him.

"I don't know." He answered, shuffling his way around the room.

He led the way, using the light of his wand to illuminate the circular room as he examined every surface for some way _out_ of the frustrating room.

"I think we hit a dead end." He said bluntly, his disappointment evident.

' _We wasted an entire evening.'_

Behind him he felt Daphne fall into him, nearly knocking him over in her clumsiness.

The brick she tripped over sunk into the floor, and water began cascading into the room from unseen crevices.

Instantly he found himself flailing about aimlessly in a panic – memories of Dudley trying to sit on his shoulders at the local pool, pushing him beneath the chlorine-filled water, filling his lungs as he gasped for air, his lungs burning desperately as he slipped into oblivion.

The memory caused a bizarre sense of deja vu to overcome him as he began to flail about and lose control.

' _Calm yourself, Potter.'_ He thought, doing his best to clear his mind.

' _Legs dangling over a cliff, the sun rising over the Strait of Dover.'_

Memories from his time at Professor Flitwick's after his first year overcame him, the months he spent escaping the Dursleys, honing his love of magic calmed him instantly.

Taping his head, he cast a bubble-head charm around himself, Daphne having already mimicked his actions from across from him, giving him a slightly amused look.

Her amusement turned into a questioning stare a second later, as though asking him what they should do next.

' _How the hell would I know?'_ She knew he hadn't been this far.

They swam with the water for several seconds before a new, partially flooded pipe appeared.

Daphne swam ahead, depositing herself into the pipe and cancelling her bubble-head charm.

"What now?" He heard her say as he joined her on the slick pipe.

The water was lower here, making it possible to stand comfortably, even if sloshing about in the shin-high water was burdensome.

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Let's try and find someplace dry?"

She stared at him in thought for several seconds before Daphne gave him another shrug and a grin, highlighting her pretty dimples once more.

"Shall we?" She said suggestively, hopping several meters in front of himself.

"Be careful!" He shouted half-heartedly as he admired her from several meters back.

"I am!" She responded.

They lit their wands, highlighting the slime-covered pipes.

' _Scourgify.'_ He thought, the grime disappearing instantly.

Seeing what he was doing, Daphne joined him in his efforts.

They walked aimlessly for several minutes, the silence of the pipes having an unnerving effect on his psyche.

"Where the fuck are we going, Harry?" Daphne inquired, the first hint of frustration climbing into her voice.

"How would I know?" He shot back in annoyance.

Taking a glance around the wide pipe he noticed a pair of torches just ahead of him.

' _Foooooddd'_

A voice echoed in his head, causing him to stop briefly.

"What is it Harry?" Daphne said from behind him.

' _What the hell was that?'_

"Nothing to worry about." He replied, shaking off the phantom voice and lighting the torches, handing her one.

The air cackled with the sparks, as a half-dozen flaming spears came barreling down on them from above, intent on ripping them apart.

' _Shit!'_

The trajectory of the spears made them impossible to dodge, leaving them with only one option.

"RUN!" Daphne shouted, shoving passed him, abandoning him to certain death.

Harry followed her lead, sloshing through the water for several meters with the deadly spears at their tail before Daphne dove into an enclave, pulling him with her.

"Riddle was a real asshole." Daphne stated bluntly as they tried to catch their breath.

' _Understatement of the millennia.'_

"At least there's a door." He replied, motioning to the knob in front of them.

"I wonder where it leads." She said with renewed interest as he cast a few diagnostic charms.

Smiling as he cleared the knob, he grabbed it and twisted it open.

"I guess we'll find out."

He sighed deeply as they were greeted with a thick plume of hot steam and a towering pipe structure clinging to the old stone walls of the castle.

' _Although I didn't expect this.'_

"There's platforms." Daphne pointed out cautiously, directing his gaze towards three separate platforms whizzing about in all directions.

' _What the hell is this?'_

They had been playing Voldemort's game for far too long, they were being directed into another trap.

' _Not again.'_

"No." He said, shaking his head and flicking his wand, hovering himself several feet off the ground.

"We can't continue to play his games."

She smiled, following his lead once more.

"After you."

Slowly they drifted upwards, looking for anything that may lead them out of the labyrinth they found themselves in.

Around them the floating platforms continued to dart about. Each disappearing into different portions of the wall.

"The walls are under an illusion." He said, an appreciative smile forming on his lips.

' _Far more creative than I would have thought.'_

Daphne nodded sharply. Canceling her charm and falling harmlessly onto one of the larger pipes.

He joined her as they both had their wands-waving, dispelling the various illusions.

Slowly the marble and the grime disappeared, leaving them in a spacious, empty cavern littered with bones.

' _Where the hell are we?'_

Daphne shivered involuntarily.

" _Hunt. Stalk. Kill."_ The same phantom voice from before echoed out around him once more.

" _Well good. Even in the wizarding world hearing phantom voices isn't a good thing, Harry."_

Hermione had joked during first year when he had told her he could talk to snakes.

' _Is that what I'm hearing? A snake?'_ That brought up a whole new set of questions.

' _How did it get in here? How does it feed?'_

The Forbidden Forest was the only answer that came to mind.

' _Is that where we're heading?'_

"There's a ladder." He heard in the far reaches of his subconscious.

"Hello? Harry?" Daphne said waving her hands in front of his face, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"I said there's a ladder!"

There was. At the far west corner of the room stood a single ladder that seemed to disappear into the ceiling.

Walking over, he grabbed hold of the wobbly wooden ladder, taking his time as he climbed to the top, on the lookout for any more of Riddle's traps.

Coming to a solid wall he let his fingers drift across the hard stone.

As he did so, a simple wooden door knob appeared.

"May as well." Daphne whispered in his ear.

Steadying himself Harry turned the knob, opening the door before climbing through.

' _Where the hell are we?'_

The dimly-lit stone corridor looked similar to every other corridor in the school, but carried a sense of unfamiliarity as well.

Glancing to his right he saw the portrait of the Fat Lady, snoring softly in her frame.

' _Gryffindor's common room? Is that where the snake was coming from?'_

That didn't make sense, even the Gryffindor's would notice a giant snake moving about near their common room.

' _Why are we assuming it's a large snake?'_ It could be small, sticking to the walls.

"Interesting." Daphne added softly from next to him.

' _Very interesting.'_

* * *

He yawned loudly, causing the third year closest to him to scooch further away in fright.

The sight nearly made him snort in amusement at the younger kid's antics – as though he was itching to fight someone in the Hogwarts great hall on a random Tuesday morning.

He hadn't gotten back to the Ravenclaw common room till nearly ten thirty, leaving him no time to sleep before his midnight till two patrol.

The third year wasn't the only one eyeing him suspiciously, half the table appeared to be glancing nervously his way.

Terry would have laughed at the predicament he found himself in.

" _You're young, rich, and exceptionally dangerous. How did you expect them to act around you?"_

Terry's words from after his disqualification in the interschool battle from the prior year still rang true.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the kid, instead turning his attention to the morning's 'Prophet.'

' **Hunt for Missing Muggleborn Continues!'**

Penelope Clearwater, for some reason or another, had been killed by Voldemort if Tonks and the Order of the Phoenix were to be trusted.

He had a hard time believing any intelligence provided by an organization that so readily stole his land to accomplish their goals, but at the moment the group of misfits remained his only insight into the war, so he did nothing to displace them.

The inaction at Bill Weasley's audaciousness was tearing him apart.

He felt bad for the former Ravenclaw Prefect that had been so friendly to him those first few years in the castle.

' _She was my first crush.'_ He realized to his own amusement how her simple acts of kindness manifested itself into something more. _'At least on my end.'_

Was she killed because she had gotten in over her head? As Rita Skeeter had been insinuating for the last several days. Or was Penelope Clearwater another faceless victim in Voldemort's endless war?

Truthfully he believed it was the later, and any insinuations otherwise were disrespectful to the kind girl's memory.

' _Hoot!'_

Hedwig's melodic greeting tore him from his thoughts as she helped herself to a link of sausage while he untied the proffered letter from her front-right leg.

Absentmindedly he stroked his beautiful owl's feathers as he read the now familiar, untidy scrawl of Fred Weasley.

' _20:00. 7_ _th_ _floor (across from the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy.)'_

' _Random location.'_ He thought to himself, thinking of the empty corridor near Ravenclaw Tower where Quirrell had retrieved Voldemort's horcrux.

' _Where DID he come from?'_ It was a question he hadn't given any thought to in the years since that night.

An oversight on his part.

Quirrell had appeared out of thin air holding his wand and the lost Diadem of Ravenclaw.

' _The twins were there…'_ He thought to himself. _'Maybe they saw something I didn't?'_

He continued to stroke Hedwig – who was now nuzzling against his shoulder affectionately – for several seconds as he tried to remember that day back in first year.

Giving up with a sigh he finished his breakfast and headed back towards Ravenclaw Tower.

' _I'll find out tonight.'_

Answering the knockers riddle, Harry ascended the spiral stairs to the circular main common area with stunning views of the grounds before hanging a left to the private quarters reserved for prefects.

Walking through the illusion covering his room, Harry made his way to his trunk, pricking his finger, allowing a drop of blood to dampen the hard leather protecting intruders from his possessions.

The trunk unlatched itself, revealing several locked compartments.

Directing his attention to the smallest compartment, he positioned the symbols in the proper order, gaining access to a glimmering pile of galleons that lay inside.

If he was going to meet with the Weasley Twins, he would undoubtedly need the gold.

* * *

She stood silently in the doorway separating the Prefect dorms from the rest of the crowded Slytherin common room, her eyes gliding to and fro, she plotted her next move.

The room seemed to quiet slightly at her presence, the fear palpable in the air.

People could ignore the Prophet, but when your sadistic parents told you Daphne Greengrass was dangerous, you took note.

" _Bellatrix Lestrange has warned the other Death Eaters not to touch you."_

Tonks thought she had been crazy for smiling.

' _I'm untouchable.'_ Nobody would dare defy the fearsome Bellatrix Lestrange, though she could handle herself need-be.

Daphne smiled inwardly at the reaction of her peers, outwardly giving no reaction as her green eyes landed on Julia Forsyth.

" _This loveseat is reserved for people who matter."_

She and Lily had no choice but to capitulate to the older girl.

They had been so young then.

' _Who picks on first years?'_

A small smile graced her face as an idea sprung into her mind.

Chest out with her chin held high, Daphne strutted through the middle of the room, groups of people separating for her as she approached her target.

Sensing her presence, the pretty brunette abandoned her conversation, facing her directly.

Idly she noticed the older girl move her wand into position under the table, just in case.

She gave the seventh year a brilliant smile. "You're in my seat." She said, her voice filled with false sincerity, making sure to recycle the words spoken to her and Lily four years prior.

If Forsyth recognized her own words being used on her, she gave no reaction.

Calmly the taller girl stood up, forced amusement dancing in her hazel eyes.

' _She's terrified.'_

Of course she was.

"You must be mistaken, Lady Greengrass."

She couldn't talk down to her, not anymore. Not with the power at her disposal.

Her eyes flashed in amusement.

" _Miss_ Forsyth." She started, making sure to put emphasis on the _'Miss.'_ Forsyth was not, nor would she ever be a lady.

' _And your family's agreement with the Flints won't change that.'_

"This seat is for people who matter."

The older girl stared her in the eye for several long moments, the shadow of a sneer playing on her face as her wand twitched in her hand.

' _I dare you.'_ She thought. _'Give me a reason.'_

Forsyth didn't, instead she motioned towards her posy, grabbing her things before stalking off.

She smiled as she thought about what must be going through her classmate's heads; _'if the Head Girl is beneath her, who isn't?'_

Her eyes followed Draco Malfoy as he used the commotion to slip out of the common room, she debated whether or not she should give chase.

The decision was taken out of her hand a moment later.

"Lady Greengrass." A cordial voice interrupted from beside her, drawing Daphne's attention to a tall, lanky girl with red hair and a pale complexion.

"Miss Magwood?" She replied politely to the seventh year, one of only three muggleborns in Slytherin.

"Please, call me Maggie, or Magdalene."

Once upon a time Astoria had approached the girl about tutoring her in potions. While Daphne hadn't known the two to be particularly close, the aspiring healer had been shooting her glances since the beginning of term.

"How are you, Maggie?" She said, doing the best to mimic Astoria's charming tone and easy smile.

The older girl's eyes drifted slightly towards a corner of the room almost out of her range of vision.

' _Julie Atwood, Calypso Rosier, Benjamin Morningstar.'_

A wealthy halfblood, a powerful pureblood, and a sixth year quidditch star.

The corner of her eyes stayed on the strawberry blonde closest to the staircase.

" _She just wants to fit in, Daph. She's used to getting what she wants and now she's a second class citizen! Can you imagine?"_

 _She frowned. "Then have your boyfriend tell them to stop."_

Astoria hadn't. Instead her sister had befriended the prissy little halfblood.

Astoria had helped all three of them, she realized.

Magdalene's green eyes hardened.

"If you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask." Her eyes shifted to Malfoy's preferred seat in the common room. "They deserve to suffer for what they did to your family."

The older girl turned to walk away when Daphne reached out impulsively, grabbing the girl by the elbow.

"Would you and your friends care to join me?"

* * *

" _Miss Forsyth, this seat is for people who matter."_

He heard as he made to leave the common room, well aware of the eyes currently on him.

' _She's going to kill me.'_ He thought to himself.

If Daphne Greengrass had decided to kill him, there was little he could do to stop her – he was good with a wand, but not prodigious; and those who would help him wouldn't dare to defy Bellatrix Lestrange.

' _And why wouldn't she?'_ He'd want to kill the people he thought responsible for the murder of his family.

' _I have to do something.'_

But what could he do? She wouldn't believe him, and Potter wouldn't let Draco approach him directly.

' _The Weasley twins.'_

He had observed them enough to realize that they were keeping tabs on Diagon Alley over the summer, andif his hunch was correct, they were in regular contact with Potter.

Changing his trajectory, Draco turned on his heel and headed towards the owlery.

* * *

The quill in his pocket vibrated twice, alerting him to the new arrivals.

"They're here." He whispered to the empty spot next to him.

The twins were protected by surprisingly good disillusionment charms of their own – undoubtedly the result of spending nights stalking the dark, empty corridors of the castle late at night.

Instead of greeting them, one of the twins began to pace the hallway.

' _Ten paces this way, ten paces that way, ten more paces this way.'_ He counted, Daphne watching the exhibit with as much attention as him.

Upon the third pass, a nondescript door appeared.

"What the hell?" Daphne said lightly, drawing the attention of the two other forms.

The other forms paused for a long moment before slipping into the room, leaving the door ajar.

A moment later the door was closed and the Weasley twins, he, and Daphne were all visible again.

' _What is this room?'_

A bunk sat on the wall closest to the door while a desk with two chairs and several shelves filled with vials sat on the far wall, the other three walls were covered with quidditch posters.

"Is this the house elf chambers?" Daphne asked inquisitively as she spun on her heel to get a full view of the cramped room.

He winced. He had a sneaking suspicion that this was the twin's room at their home.

But Daphne wouldn't know that. The eldest Greengrass daughter had never known discomfort.

' _But how?'_

"It's our room at home." Fred said tensely.

Sensing his question, Fred continued.

"No we don't know the magic behind the room. All we know is that you walk passed that space on the wall three teams picturing the room you want, and the castle provides. The elf's told us after the _incident_ in third year."

' _This is turning out to be one hell of a week.'_

Ignoring the sense of terror felt by most of the castle as Voldemort waged a civil war, he and Daphne had discovered two incredible secrets of the castle in two nights.

He wanted to ask more questions, but Fred continued.

"Can you cast some privacy charms, the strongest you know?"

He raised an eyebrow at the nervous tone, but complied, too interested to question the command.

' _Where's this going?'_

Satisfied that they wouldn't be overheard, Fred walked over to the desk, opening the top drawer and removing a bottle of firewhisky, uncorking it and taking a long pull with a well-practiced ease.

Fred's voice cracked slightly as he passed the bottle to George; "Penelope Clearwater was one of our informants at the ministry."

He and Daphne shared a glance.

"What did she do?" Daphne inquired.

The pair had a well-practiced routine by now. Daphne would ask the questions, he would observe.

Across from him George stayed quite, playing the same role.

"She worked the front desk at the records archives."

Fred's voice quivered lightly and his eyes darted around the room discreetly, across from him George appeared less nervous.

Daphne paused for a moment to collect herself and Fred offered no additional information.

When it came down to it the twins, unlike their older brother, didn't involve themselves in the war out of honor - they needed the gold and saw their information gathering to be an acceptable risk.

"Tell me about all of her updates." Daphne asked pointedly.

Fred glanced at George and they both shrugged.

"She was useless for the most part." George spoke up, surprising everyone.

The pretty girl always did well in school, even if, as he had overheard Professor Flitwick once say, she lacked ambition.

"She liked to party in Whisper Alley, we thought she'd be able to provide some decent gossip. You know, the type of rumors drunks spew at last call." George stated with a casual shrug.

"Only she didn't." Fred took over. "We kept her on the payroll because she's pretty and can get us things a minor can't buy."

' _Get to the point.'_

"Where are you going with this?"

Fred nodded. "Right." He said glancing at George again. "Two weeks ago she contacted me, telling me she had some information that could interest us."

"And?"

"And we met." He said awkwardly. "She was telling us about a guy named Corban Yaxley who kept exploring the ancestral security records room."

"So?" Daphne blurted out, voicing his own thoughts.

"He went there over two dozen times the last couple of months under guise of going browsing other areas."

The Yaxley's former patriarch was a vibrant supporter of Voldemort's during the first war.

"That's awfully flimsy." Daphne sighed dramatically as she began to pack her things.

"That's what I said." Fred said, the pronounced tremor in the older boy's voice caused Daphne to pause.

"What else did she say?" She responded with interest.

He stared at her nervously for several moments.

"I don't know." He started as his voice cracked. "I told her that what she was telling me wasn't worth anything and she vowed to find something of use. She disappeared before we could meet again."

Daphne moved to respond, but George put an arm on his shoulder and directed him towards the other side of the room before casting several privacy charms of his own.

"The Malfoy's had nothing to do with the murder of Daphne's family, according to Draco." George said in a hurried whisper.

"What?" He responded smartly, the statement catching him off guard.

"We received an owl from him an hour ago. He swears it, and says he knows who killed the Greengrass family, if you're willing to listen."

It wasn't the first time that Draco professed innocence.

" _He's lying."_ Daphne was sure of it.

' _But that doesn't make it true.'_

"Why should I trust a word Malfoy says?"

"Because he knows we spy for you, he knows Daphne's following him, and he's willing to betray Voldemort." George shrugged. "I don't think he's smart enough to lay some elaborate trap."

"He assured us he wouldn't say anything about us spying for you. All he wants is to meet with you alone, without Daphne."

He nodded. Even if it was a trap, he could kill Malfoy in an instant, if it came down to it.

"I'll think about it."

George nodded his head as Daphne grabbed his arm. "Pay them and let's leave." She stated bluntly.

He sighed as he handed over the large bag of galleons.

"Good work."

With a nod the twins disappeared under a disillusionment charm and left the room, leaving the pair alone in thought.

* * *

"Are you ready, my lord?"

Voldemort gave DuPont a resolute nod; not allowing the apprehension he was feeling to show on his face.

He felt a young Tom Riddle's fearful nature flicker into being as it battled for supremacy of his psyche, leaving him feeling as powerless as he had at 'Wool's Orphanage.'

" _Get out of here, snake boy!"_

He snarled briefly at the memory of his former bully's before a twisted smile formed on his serpentine face.

" _Attack!" He hissed towards the half dozen snakes, directing them towards the three teenagers tied to chairs in front of him. "You'll die a slow death. I've made sure of that."_

He felt a tinge of pleasure at the memory, one of the earliest he had of taking back control of his life.

His mind wandered back to the procedure at hand; he was not in an ideal state of mind to undergo such an experiment, but the arithmancy had dictated his schedule.

' _A solution must be found.'_

It was growing difficult to keep his problems from his followers.

' _That cannot happen.'_

He was under no illusion that his inner circle was following him over some feeling of kinship towards him or his vision. Maybe that had been true once-upon-a-time in the early years of his revolution, but the loyalty of his oldest followers had waned in his absence as they enjoyed a life of leisure while he suffered.

It shined through in Lucius's hesitation and Bella's questions; he didn't have time to justify his actions to them.

' _If they feel emboldened, how long before the rest? How long until a group of them grow the nerve to challenge Lord Voldemort?'_

Snape was loyal as long as his lifestyle wasn't threatened, while Rookwood wouldn't hesitate to abandon him if it meant access to more knowledge.

It was fear and the lust for power that kept his inner circle in place, right now he was having issues instilling that fear.

He moved through the ritual chamber laboriously, the air thick with magic as he crossed the heavily saturated threshold of the ritual circle, idly noticing that he was glowing a dark purple.

The glowing intensified as DuPont's chanting picked up; the man transitioning seamlessly between Latin, Greek, and Egyptian.

The Dark Lord quickly realized he wasn't the only one feeling apprehensive about DuPont's ritual – if the Frenchman's face was anything to go by.

' _Potter.'_ This was all his fault; the killing curse hitting the boy and creating an accidental horcrux had destroyed years of arithmetic formulas and rituals meant to stabilize the seven separate pieces of his soul.

It had all been perfect, until that night.

DuPont's chanting slowed as the older man cautiously moved the goblet containing the strangers' soul onto the dais next to him.

He felt his body condense tightly, causing him to visibly grimace at the force.

"We're almost done, my lord." The nervous voice of Marcel DuPont stated from just outside the circle.

He gave an annoyed nod, motioning for the man to get on with the task at hand.

Slowly DuPont began to chant once more, his wand dancing in the air in front of him.

This time the goblet and Voldemort both began to glow as DuPont's volume picked up, both in volume and in excitement.

Voldemort felt his feet levitate off the ground as his organs compressed inside of him, eliciting a painful moan from the dark lord.

The necromancer's eyes widened briefly at his pain, and Voldemort felt his rage bubble to the surface at his display of weakness.

The pain shot through his body before settling in his chest, causing him to scream in agony.

Next to him, the goblet was floating several meters above the dais, a foul shade floating beside it.

In front of him DuPont continued his chant, his pain intensifying with each word as the shade meandered its way towards him.

Blood began to form in his mouth as the dark lord bit his tongue, unwilling to show any more weakness in front of this sycophant.

The blood began to drip out of his mouth as the shade fought against DuPont, fighting the ritual meant to unify the two souls.

The air cackled loudly as DuPont worked to finish the ritual that would restore him.

Through his blurred vision he briefly saw the shade ram itself into the hole in his chest as his world exploded in agony, his extremities twitching in pain as the shade was forcefully rejected by what remained of his own soul.

Undeterred the Frenchman tried again.

And again the unwilling shade rammed into his chest, and again Voldemort let out a pained scream.

Upon being rejected for a second time, the soul retreated to its vessel and the chanting stopped, leaving him shaking in pain.

The pair sat quietly for several seconds while he regained his composure, his rage building.

"The Dark Mark is tied to your soul, yes?"

" _Crucio."_ He hissed by way of response, throwing all of his hatred, all of his humiliation into that one curse.

He couldn't believe he had agreed to such a poorly designed ritual. DuPont _had_ to know it wouldn't work.

' _Was he trying to humiliate me?'_

He felt ten all over again.

The necromancer roared out in pain as he held him under the spell for nearly thirty seconds, breaking the curse just in time to save the man's sanity.

Black dragon hide boots echoed off the chamber floor as he approached the convulsing man; the urge to kill DuPont and look for another solution nearly overwhelming him.

' _That would be rather shortsighted of you.'_ He thought as his boot connected with the man's ribs.

It was true; there were few necromancers in the world, none matching the brilliance of the Frenchman writhing on the floor in front of him.

' _You're assuming that he is capable of discovering the answer.'_

What if DuPont couldn't help him? What if the answer lied elsewhere?

He delivered another kick to the shaking man.

' _Could a ritual be designed that could mimic a soul?'_

Was it possible to design and create a soul?

Letting up on his punishment, he sat in thought as the older man twitched involuntarily on the hard floor next to him.

"Where do we go from here, Marcel?" His voice was barely above a whisper and laced with danger.

The necromancer hesitated slightly. "Reunification, my lord. That's your best bet."

' _Back to this option?'_

Walking amongst the mortals once more did not appeal to him.

' _Although Dumbledore is gone. There's nobody left to fear.'_ Particularly if reunification returned him to full strength.

"I only have one horcrux left, Marcel." He said, his voice carrying dangerous undertones. "We don't even know if it will work."

Marcel gave a nervous shrug. "It couldn't possibly be worse, my lord."

Could a quarter of his soul stabilize him? Was it even worth it to try? How would he even retrieve his last horcrux?

Both Bellatrix's spy and Severus lacked the necessary _abilities_ to retrieve his old diary.

' _Potter doesn't.'_ And if Bellatrix was correct than he was aware of the Chamber of Secrets as well as his old study.

' _As long as the diary remains at Hogwarts, there is a real threat to my power.'_

* * *

He flattened his body against his broom in his best imitation of Viktor Krum his feet dangling a safe five meters off the ground, zipping through the early-October midnight sky.

It had been a week since their meeting with Fred and George and there had been no further updates from the twins as-of-yet, though he had caught Draco Malfoy staring at him on several occasions from across the great hall.

' _Lean left.'_ Harry told himself, the blades of his back running parallel with the ground as he jetted diagonally across the dark quidditch pitch.

For the first time in a long time Harry found himself at a loss; did he believe the shaky evidence presented by his girlfriend against someone who would be easy to blame? Or did he take a more objective approach to the entire situation?

' _There's no proof.'_ That was the problem. As inept as they were, the Order of the Phoenix had a habit of figuring out who was responsible for these types of things, and without any evidence as to what Lucius and Alfred were arguing about moments before his death, it was hard to condemn him for the death of the Greengrass family, no matter how despicable a person Lucius Malfoy may be.

Daphne hadn't been the only one investigating Draco Malfoy, he had spent hours reviewing what he knew about the Malfoy's and Draco's relationship with Astoria.

Recalling memories of Astoria with Draco, and conversations he had had with those who knew them best, Draco had nothing to do with the death of Astoria, though he couldn't say the same about Lucius.

" _Draco stopped reporting on Astoria months ago."_ Blaise Zabini's words from fourth year echoed in his mind, seemingly confirming his own observations and what he could recall from Terry's reports.

' _Lean right.'_ He thought, his Nimbus 3000 responding to his tiniest impulses, as though his mind and the broom shared a mental link.

A sharp turn had him hugging the closest of the three rings as he sped back across the pitch once more.

' _Daphne will never believe the Draco had nothing to do with her family's murder. She'll want retribution.'_

In that sense Draco Malfoy may have dug his own grave, having spent years giving off the impression that he was his father's confidant didn't help his claims at innocence.

He shook those thoughts from his mind, his focus returning to the broom he was guiding.

'" _Happy 15_ _th_ _Birthday, Lord Potter." – Henry Worth IV, CEO Nimbus Inc.'_

The gesture had made him think of Terry, who had been the one to initially explain his family's involvement in the founding of Nimbus Inc.

' _Terry would know how to handle Malfoy.'_

A tinge of guilt shot through him as he thought of his best friend. _'Can I only be bothered to think of him when I need his advice?'_

The thought made him feel guilty, Terry deserved better.

' _What am I supposed to do, wallow in his memory?'_ The idea seemed foreign, and inconsequential, yet somehow he felt as if he owed it to Terry to show more public concern.

' _I didn't do that for Hermione, or Flitwick, or Sirius; and they were dead!'_ He rationalized. _'Terry could be alive.'_ His subconscious countered. _'He could be alive, and I'm doing nothing.'_

' _All you can do is live your life, let his parents worry about Terry.'_ The rationale behind his thoughts made him feel selfish.

He pulled up slightly, shooting towards the sky fast as a rocket past Ravenclaw Tower before settling just above the legendary schools tallest tower, his green eyes memorizing every inch of the castle grounds before settling on the vast forest set just to the north of the castles walls.

Antonin Dolohov's aerial display in the valley had opened his eyes to a whole new type of warfare, presenting Harry with a new skill to master.

He pressed forward, past the castle grounds and out over the canopy of the forbidden forest until Hogwarts was a long-off dot in the distance.

As he went, he slowly began going through an uncomfortable series of dips and dives, eager to become proficient enough to survive an aerial conflict.

His father had been a great flier, Sirius had said; regaling him with stories of when the two of them starred as chasers for Gryffindor, dominating both the school and the summer leagues for years.

At least that's how Sirius had told it.

When he was confident he was far enough from castle grounds, he conjured a series of small targets, leaving them suspended at various heights off the ground.

He and Daphne had been so preoccupied with a ground attack they had nearly been killed by Dolohov's assault from above.

He couldn't allow that to happen again.

His wand in his hand and a smile on his handsome features, Harry took a deep breath to settle himself before slowly floating around the course high above the forbidden forest.

As he moved he took aim at the first target, doing his best to square his aim through the wind.

The first glob of paint flew high and to the right, missing the target completely and covering the forest floor below.

He frowned, adjusting his body slightly as he circled around to approach the target once more.

This time some of the paint found its mark, the rest finding its way to the forest floor twenty meters below.

' _Progress.'_ He thought, refusing to let himself get dejected by his lack of instant success as he approached a third time, determined to hit the target on his next attempt.

His third attempt found its mark, causing a brief ghost of a smile to make its way across his face at his small success before he rounded on the target again, unwilling to relish in the miniscule victory.

' _Faster now.'_

* * *

She stood unnoticed, obscured by layers of disillusionment charms at the back of the dingy pub, observing the seemingly empty table that seemed to go ignored by the other patrons.

She had been somewhat surprised by the choice of venue for this particular meeting, having become used to the empty rooms and dingy alleyways her paranoid contact usually preferred.

' _Time to make a decision.'_ Septima thought to herself with a frown.

' _She's there.'_ She knew she was, Bellatrix may have done a good enough job of hiding herself, but the low-level brut watching the same table from a ways down gave away her location.

' _Imbecile is practically displaying his mark.'_ Not for the first time she questioned the quality of the dark lords Death Eaters.

' _Tick-tock, Septima. Tick-tock.'_ Bellatrix would not tolerate tardiness, and she was already pushing her limits.

' _Maybe another time.'_ She thought with a disappointed sigh, removing most of her disillusionment charms, she stepped through the wards protecting Voldemort's fearsome general and sat down.

"You decided to make your presence known after all." The older woman stated bluntly, a severe look on her worn face.

Idly batting at a fly – she took a moment to gather her thoughts, only slightly surprised at having been found out.

"It took me a moment to find you." The lie came as easy as Bellatrix's acceptance of it. "Your bodyguard gave you away."

Bellatrix's violet eyes met her own for the first time as she took a sip of her water, a bemused expression on her face.

"I'll have to kill him then." She said with a casual laugh.

' _Poor chap.'_ She thought, not envying the man in the slightest.

The pair sat in an awkward silence for several long moments, each waiting for the other to be the first to speak.

' _Are we thinking the same thing?'_ It wouldn't surprise her; Bella had taught her everything she knew.

' _Which means she realizes we've nearly reached the end of our journey together.'_ All that was left was to ensure her journey with Voldemort ended before Voldemort's journey with her.

There were no clever quips or lovely promises, not now, not after she had achieved her goal; Septima had ran out of use for Bellatrix and they both knew it.

She thought it would hurt more, seeing how little she actually meant to the older woman.

"Has Potter made progress on the Chamber of Secrets?"

' _Enough that I cannot accurately monitor him.'_

As Albus had used Grindelwald to propel his career, she had used Voldemort to propel hers.

The power wielded between Potter and Greengrass would propel her further still.

' _As long as they never learn the truth.'_ A painful death would greet her if Harry or Daphne found out what she had done, she was sure of it.

She found the risk arousing.

"To the best of my knowledge Potter hasn't tested his luck since showing Greengrass his progress at the beginning of the year."

Bellatrix offered her a curt nod.

' _She doesn't believe me.'_ It was a dangerous game they were playing.

"Keep me posted." Bellatrix said casually, swatting at a fly hovering next to her drink.

' _Disgusting pub.'_ She longed for the comfort of her private bath back at Hogwarts.

' _And a glass of chardonnay.'_

"Is there anything in particular our lord would like me to pay attention to?" She asked submissively.

' _Best to play my part.'_

The dark haired sociopath stared at her intensely as she pondered the options in her head. "Not right now." Bellatrix replied, finishing her drink and standing up to leave abruptly. "We'll meet again in a few weeks."

She wasn't going to give her any more information, not now, not unless the dark lord demanded it.

Bellatrix Lestrange was a praying mantis.

' _If the dark lord doesn't have use for me, Bellatrix will kill me.'_ She had no doubt about that.

Giving her a brief nod in return, Bellatrix turned on her heel and stalked out, leaving Septima alone with her thoughts.

Waiting until she was certain the woman was gone, Septima finished her drink, smiling despite herself.

Soon it would all be over.

* * *

 **A/N:** This was supposed to be a lot longer, but I needed to get something out, I was driving myself crazy.

We FINALLY start to delve into the CoS a bit in this chapter. The CoS in this story plays on my belief that JKR only showed us one room.

This chapter is also almost entirely filler, which sucks.

I was asked about my other story ("Two Dozen Veela") by a few of you. While I'm working on it, it will not be released till PtP is finished and released.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

"She's lying to me, my lord."

He furrowed his brow at his servants tone.

"She's the headmistress of Hogwarts." Voldemort started, doing his best to keep the rising anger from his voice, he didn't like being questioned.

"Unless you have cultivated a better asset, she must remain, at least for now."

"If you don't believe you can trust a spy, they must be killed." She countered, throwing his own words back in his face.

The confidence of Bellatrix's statement caused his anger to come bubbling to the surface once more as the magic fled the room taking up residence in his body, causing sparks of black and purple to cackle wildly in the air.

In front of him Bellatrix took a small step back, the self-assured look still gracing her beautiful features.

Her lack of fear nearly pushed him over the edge once-more – it hadn't been that long ago the legendary Bellatrix Lestrange would listen without question.

" _Why question greatness?"_ She had once said.

' _What happened?'_

The chimes on the ornate grandfather clock, the last proof that the large home had ever belonged to a filthy muggle, caused him to assess his options.

Flicking his wrist, he idly noticed Bellatrix flinch slightly at the gesture, causing him to smile as he checked the time.

' _I still have some effect on her.'_ He thought cruelly.

Long before Hogwarts, Tom Riddle used to partake in a game with the other orphans at Wools.

The object was for an individual to occupy a small hoop on the ground at the top of the hill for as long as possible.

A dozen or so boys would stand at the base of the hill and on a whistle they would race up to the top and fight over who would get to stand in the hoop.

There was no physical prize for this feat, the reward being the dominance of your peers in a show of strength.

The dozen or so boys quickly found out that of the twelve of them only 3 were powerful enough to control the hoop for any length of time, causing the group, as a whole, to become discouraged.

The strangest thing began to happen – slowly the children began to gravitate towards the kids more powerful than themselves until the twelve individuals had separated themselves into three groups, each supporting a different champion.

One day Andrew lost his bid to control the hoop for the tenth time in a row – frustrated another boy challenged Andrew's power.

' _12:00, October 31_ _st_ _.'_

It had been over a decade since Potter ripped his soul from his body, ruining years of careful planning and forcing his exodus.

' _Trelwaney, DuPont, Potter.'_ They were to blame for his current state.

If DuPont's arithmancy had been more accurate… if Trelwaney hadn't made that preposterous prophecy… if Potter hadn't _existed…_ He'd have full control of his emotions – his magic, and his servants.

Deciding to give in to his anger, Voldemort dropped the subject, a new idea forming in his mind.

Andrew had answered his servant's challenge by breaking an opponent's clavicle and winning the next several rounds, the show of strength reaffirming his unquestioned position as the alpha.

' _The world has forgotten.'_

In his efforts to stay unnoticed and build his base he had allowed himself to show weakness, he couldn't allow that to continue, the time had come to reassert himself.

"I want you to gather as many Death Eaters as possible and meet me at the clearing in the woods east of Godric's Hollow in a half an hour."

' _Show them your might and regain control.'_

A cruel smile formed itself as Bellatrix's hand instinctively caressed her wand as she fought to contain her excitement.

"Will dragonhide armor be necessary?" She longed for battle, he could see it in her eyes.

' _Violence placates her.'_ He reminded himself. _'Keep her happy and the rest will fall in line.'_

Humans were so simple.

"Yes."

She let out a hearty, cruel laugh, disappearing with a crack.

A half-second later the Dark Lord found himself in a familiar garden underneath a large gazebo.

Voldemort felt a calm wash over himself as his eyes adjusted to the pitch-black midnight sky.

Standing in the arched, open-air entrance he scanned the perfectly manicured shrubbery of Regents Park, taking in the fountains and red roses, the perfectly straight gravel walk-ways leading off in every direction, connecting this gazebo to a maze of landscape and benches.

A sense of Déjà vu overcame him as he briskly made his way through the empty park and to the large muggle lodge located to the north of where he had landed.

He had done this before, except twenty five years ago it had been himself and a handful of the old guard, celebrating the birth of a pureblood.

The lodge hadn't been here then, he mused as he approached the square, bland structure covered in fluorescent lights.

He stared at the building in disgust for a long moment. _'Muggles have no taste.'_

With a flick of his wrist a towering oak appeared out of the air, providing him with a proper vantage point providing him with a view of the lodge's main exit, as well as the drives leading to and from the building.

A smile rested on his face as he prepared for the fun part, eager to unleash a months' worth of aggression and frustration.

The bland structure glistened in light as Voldemort took a calming breath, determined to enjoy his evening.

" _Fiendfyre!"_ He yelled unnecessarily, savoring every syllable as the flames leapt from his wand, attaching itself to the side of the lodge.

He repeated his actions several more times till the whole building was ablaze, filling the air with the smell of zinc and sulphur as the steel and plastic burned around him.

The melodic tone of screaming greeted his ears like an old friend, drawing his attention to the large group of people congregating at the entrance of the lodge in a frenetic panic, desperate to escape the wicked flames and suffocating smoke.

Mercifully he allowed them access to the cool autumn air, the area began to fill with hunched over survivors coughing violently, trying to catch their breath.

He smiled, it would be so easy to apparate into the crowd and kill them all.

Voldemort let go of that idea and steadied his wand instead; it had been too long since he had hunted from distance.

Spells were most effective in close-quarter combat, fizzling out as they traveled across the open air.

The trick was training your stamina, learning to control the flow of magic from your wand, hoping to maintain power.

The process was akin to training ones muscles.

Picking off a target from a ways off favored precision over power; allowing the aggressor the safety of distance as he carried out his deed.

' _Jahannam.'_ He thought, honing in on a half-dozen targets as a number of small, black flames shot from his wand, burrowing into the flesh of the muggles outside the burning lodge, tearing deep into them before setting their bones ablaze.

The howls of the victims rose above the other screams as sirens off in the distance assaulted his senses.

Taking aim at another group of muggles more than two-hundred meters away, Voldemort unleashed a barrage of flesh melting hexes, watching in delight as the flesh and blood of his victims began to form a grotesque pool of carnage on the ground.

He let out a hearty laugh as some of the emergency responders appeared to spot him, pointing towards the tree he had erected and heading his was at a run.

' _We can't have that.'_ He thought, twirling his wand above his head in a circle.

A large wall of cursed fire formed around the hundreds of muggles who had congregated in the area, causing a mass-panic as the finality of their situation began to sink in.

' _Imperio.'_ He thought, taking aim at his target.

He felt the muggle succumb to his power instantly as Voldemort conjured a knife in the small child's hand.

' _Kill as many as you can.'_

Aggressively the toddler began to attack, plunging the knife into the abdomen of his father before turning the knife on those surrounding him.

Voldemort watched in fascination as the boy emotionlessly plunged the knife into the neck of a third muggle before finally eliciting a response from an adult.

He left the boy to himself, turning his attention to the mass of confusion to his left.

A flick of his wrist and several dozen green snakes with diamond shaped heads appeared; biting, paralyzing, and killing people at random.

He laughed loudly at his own antics; savoring the feeling of control he had over the environment.

Outside the original circle of flames were various groups of men dousing the fire with water, trying to rescue their fellow muggles from the creeping death.

He watched in curiosity for several seconds.

' _Do they really think that will work?'_

Fiendfyre wouldn't be so easily defeated.

As more and more people joined the rescue attempt, Voldemort conjured a second, larger circle of flames engulfing the entire area in inescapable madness.

Voldemort watched the chaos he created for several minutes before relinquishing control of the flames, allowing them to devour everything in sight, sealing the fate of the remaining muggles in the vicinity.

The flames would burn as long as there was magic in the air to feed off of, the city, if he were to guess, would burn for days.

Voldemort didn't have much time to relish his victory as his periphery caught a streak of red from off to his left.

He moved his head slightly to the side to avoid the onslaught, the spell landing harmlessly on the trunk of the tree.

The auror's had arrived.

' _Their response time is abysmal.'_ He'd brought madness to London three blocks from the Ministries doorsteps and it had taken them four minutes to respond. Voldemort laughed, they were handing him victory.

He turned his full attention to the dozen auror's in plum colored robes scattered out around him.

' _Smart positioning.'_

His enemies each stood just out of sight of one another, making it difficult for him to hone in on any single group of aurors.

As his eyes roamed to his far right he caught a familiar sight.

Peg-leg, heavily scarred, sporting a nasty smirk and a magical glass eye. The rumors had been true; Alastor Moody had come out of retirement.

Casually Voldemort batted away the attacks of his enemies as he narrowed his stance and entered into a crouch, his wand at the ready, he felt a smile fueled by anticipation cross his face.

Without hesitation Voldemort's wand entered a complicated dance, flinging spells in every direction as he dipped and dodged his way towards his opponents, pressing his advantage while pushing them deeper into Regent's Park.

"You've made a mistake Moody!" He yelled, dismembering one of his auror's with an absentminded flick.

The grizzled auror gave him a determined growl, squaring his shoulders.

At his peak the great Alastor Moody wouldn't think of taking on such a defensive stance.

Athletic, graceful, powerful, and a natural leader, Alastor Moody thrived in battle, relying on might to decimate his opponents.

Over time his speed and athleticism had been torn from him limb-by-limb, forcing him to change styles.

The change had left him vulnerable.

Voldemort sent a killing curse towards the grey-haired wizard, watching as a conjured slab of granite barely saved the man's life.

He remembered Alastor Moody, the annoying fifth year who thought he could beat him in the pits. He couldn't then and he couldn't now.

Rather than wait for Moody to respond, Voldemort moved to the side before taking aim at the remaining auror's.

Setting his wand in motion, Voldemort sent a trio of disemboweling curses their way, shredding through the torso's of the ministry's defenses, leaving the pristine lawn covered in blood and innards.

' _Four left.'_ He told himself, before quickly amending his count; _'four and Moody.'_

Lose of limb hadn't dampened Moody's anticipation as Voldemort was forced to duck a streak of haunting green light that was headed his way, before summoning another auror into the path of a second light.

' _Enough of this.'_

Turning his attention to the final three auror's, Voldemort unleashed a trio of killing curses in their direction, leaving him alone with the legendary auror.

"You're a lucky one, Alastor." His voice was laced with the arrogance that came with assured victory. "Your life will end at the wand of Lord Voldemort."

Around them the fire that had started at the muggle lodge had spread to the surrounding buildings as emergency services desperately tried to contain his destruction.

Roots sprouted out of the ground, surprising the dark lord as they wrapped around his waist, holding him in place, a small smile on the grizzled man's ugly features.

"You still talk too much, _Tommy."_ He gloated, invoking the filthy muggle nickname instilled upon him by the nuns at the orphanage.

Voldemort let out an enraged scream, his magic shredding through the roots, freeing him from their grasp.

" _Crucio!"_ He hissed.

Angry red attached itself to the legendary auror as Moody screamed in agony, twitching violently on the ground.

The longer he held the curse, the more intense the screaming became, the more violent the twitching got as a spindly spiders web of capillaries and veins made themselves visible across the man's body.

Suddenly the screaming stopped, leaving a twitching mindless mess lying convulsing silently on the lawn in front of him, drool hanging from his mouth.

Voldemort contemplated ending it all before deciding against it; tonight was not the night for mercy.

Pleased with himself, he cast the dark mark, and disappeared.

He landed just uphill from the clearing in the woods in a field of daises, a sense of euphoria flooding his senses.

Calmly he descended the hill, his feet plowing a path forward through the dandelions and tall grass, his senses picking up over two-dozen magical signatures in the clearing ahead.

His arrival was met by Bellatrix; looking like Azrael himself outfitted in black dragonhide leather, her hair tied back in a tightly held ponytail, her face shining with a deadly focus.

Her smile twisted into something menacing as she took him in, shuttering at his power.

' _That's better.'_

"Auror's responded to a disturbance in London."

He smiled, relishing the opportunity that presented itself.

"Alastor Moody is no longer a concern to us."

"He's dead?"

Her voice oozed excitement at the prospect; the auror had been a problem for far too long.

"He'll be joining the Longbottom's in St. Mungo."

Bellatrix cackled devilishly as they entered the clearing.

Around him voices stopped, leaving Voldemort keenly aware that he was the center of attention.

"Rookwood has set the wards." Bellatrix added quietly so just he could hear.

' _Good.'_

"Antonin?"

His battle with Potter had left him near death and unable to partake in most activities.

' _Clever bastard.'_ Potter's spells had proven to be impervious to normal methods, leaving his friend to heal naturally over time.

"Disappointed that he cannot attend, my lord."

The reverence was back in his most faithful servant's voice.

"He still has his play things, correct?"

"Yes my lord."

At least there was that. A bored Antonin Dolohov unable to partake in attacks left a trail of bodies in his wake.

"Approve any plans he may have for them, let's keep his spirits high."

"Of course, my lord." Bellatrix added without hesitation.

He turned his attention back to the crowd before him.

"My friends!" He said with the potent mixture of charm and confidence perfected long ago by Tom Riddle.

He hadn't felt this alive in decades; power coursing through his veins as his servants gave him their undivided attention.

It had been thirteen years since Godric's Hollow had destroyed him, ripping him from his body and sending him to purgatory for a decade.

Yet he had persevered where others had failed, he had conquered death.

"Leave no survivors, leave nothing standing!"

A set of roars erupted from the crowd at his proclamation and he felt the excitement beginning to build – he was Lord Voldemort once more.

"Leave the Potter house." He added in a deadly calm.

His tone settled the death eaters down significantly as they prepared for what was to come.

"You know what to do!" Bellatrix snapped, sending his troops into an organized frenzy as they arranged themselves into six groups of four and disappeared.

Seeing she had things in hand, Voldemort disappeared with a smile, intending to greet the auror's with force.

The opening near the bridge was quiet, the screams and smoke obscured by a thick line of trees separating the valley and the river from the small hamlet in western England.

He worked quietly, carving the necessary glyphs into the perfectly square pieces of obsidian.

Finished with his carving, he banished the mithril knife before taking a moment to admire his work.

Two cubes, four runes a cube.

So simple.

So destructive.

Voldemort's senses perked as the magic around him shifted ever-so-subtly.

' _They're coming.'_

The subtle shift in magic provided him a quarter second advantage on his enemies.

The cubes glowed pearl white as magic flowed through his fingertips directly into them.

Thirteen magical signatures, that's what it took to ignite Rookwood's magnum opus.

He tossed the cubes on the ground, apparating away right as the first group of auror's arrived.

The cubes began to shake on the ground as Voldemort was joined by eleven other auror's.

Sensing a dozen more enemies in route, Lord Voldemort smiled before taking a bow and disapparating once more, reappearing a safe distance away.

From his perch on the clock tower above town square he eyed the chaos, a euphoric delight coursing through his veins.

A loud explosion shook the earth as the small cubes ignited, vaporizing everything in its path.

' _I've missed this.'_ The chaos, the destruction. It made him feel whole.

His instability had left him wary of a raid, but this morning he had felt…different.

' _Samhain, perhaps?'_ Magic was fickle and unpredictable at the best of times, soul magic was far from best of times.

Below him buildings burned as the 18 or so death eaters partaking had their fun, serving their purpose.

Around him Jugson, Travers, Rookwood, the Flints, and Bellatrix waited patiently for the _real_ battle.

"Enemies to the north!" Travers shouted, disrupting his melancholy.

Even with his relatively good eyesight he was having trouble seeing through the thick smoke, he couldn't see his enemies, being forced to rely on the assessment of his men.

He heard Bellatrix let out a loud cackle before disapparating ahead.

The reason for her glee became apparent a moment later when he caught sight of the vestiges of Dumbledore's vigilante group hurling curses their way.

An athletically built woman with jet-black hair, piercing violet eyes, and high-cheekbones led the resistance; a tall, well-built red-head standing beside her.

' _Nymphadora Tonks and William Weasley.'_

The opportunity to eliminate two of the three biggest threats to his power at the same time nearly overwhelmed him before an alarm in his subconscious alerted him to nearly two-dozen new threats.

' _Bellatrix can handle her niece while Jugson and Travers should be able to preoccupy Weasley for a few minutes.'_

"Jugson! Travers!" He yelled, grabbing their attention at once. "Help Bellatrix."

The pair nodded before disapparating with a slight _*pop.*_

Voldemort pointed towards the approaching auror's, motioning for his remaining death eaters to stay put.

He disappeared, reappearing at his perch on the clock tower, providing him with a clear view of the auror's spreading out across the city to battle his servants.

Immediately his wand went into motion, hitting a handful of auror's with killing curses, spreading chaos among the ranks.

The auror's recovered quickly before disposing of most of his remaining men then turning their focus to Rookwood and the Flints.

Pointing his wand at the black night sky, he gave it a handful of twists and twirls ending with a downward slash.

A moment later a thick, violet bolt came crashing down from the heavens, electrocuting a half-dozen or so auror's.

Behind him Bellatrix was in the midst of a fierce battle with Nymphadora Tonks while Bill Weasley had killed Jugson and was exchanging spells with Travers.

' _Impressive.'_ Jugson had been no pushover.

Voldemort paused to watch as Bellatrix chose to take a bone-breaker to her non-wand arm as a way to avoid a well-placed killing curse.

The ability to think strategically during a fight was a valuable commodity in a war.

' _How talented are you, Nymphadora?'_

In many ways the threat of Dumbledore had kept him focused over the years, the very real thought that the ancient warlock could kill him had pushed Voldemort to his limits.

With him gone he felt a void within him.

His hope that Nymphadora Tonks would turn out to be a credible threat waned as Bellatrix opened up a deep wound on the metamorphmagus's bicep, severing a portion of it from her body.

Next to her an impressive Bill Weasley had just finished off Travers with relative ease, leaving him alone to double up on Bellatrix.

' _Maybe the two of them together?'_

Silently he apparated directly in front of the younger man, startling him briefly, causing him to take a step back.

Weasley's eyes hardened, a determined look settling over his tanned face as he began his brutal attack.

Calmly Voldemort deflected the incoming horde.

' _An ambitious attack with an unusual combination of spells, a clear testament to his prowess as a Gringott's curse breaker.'_

A curse-breaking apprenticeship with the reputable bank would have made him an important ally.

' _Can he keep himself alive?'_

A jet of green leapt from his wand before being met with a flock of birds.

"Very good Mr. Weasley."

A dangerous growl emitted from his enemies mouth and was quickly followed by a trio of killing curses of his own.

A sense of thrill overcame him as Voldemort found himself _laughing_ as he danced out of the way of the light. Deciding to show off, Voldemort cast a quick curse at an attacking Nymphadora Tonks forcing her to dodge and restoring balance in the other fight as Bellatrix shot off a few well-placed spells while he conjured a boulder to intercept the boy's latest curse.

Around them the village had been turned to ash, the only remaining structure being the house at the end of the lane.

A sense of thrill overtook him as he began animating the ash and flaming debris in the village into a fiery golem standing thirty meters high.

The child's eyes remained calm, his wand already in motion.

"Aquamenti Scutum!"

He watched with approval as the smaller water golem crippled his fire golem.

He ended the spell, banishing the remnants at Weasley who transfigured the debris into a flock of sparrows, sending them back his way.

"Dumbledore taught you well!" He yelled approvingly as he slaughtered the birds.

A cocky grin came across the red-haired man's face.

"I expected more from you, Tom."

He felt his temper roar, his wand in motion once more.

A disappointed look came over his face, Weasley had had potential he thought as his rotting hex connected with the man's leg.

A spell of his own design, the hex would rot each appendage individually before falling off.

There was no counter-curse.

"I expected more." He said as Weasley screamed while his leg rotted from the inside out.

The pathetic man couldn't even muster up a defense as he approached.

"They say redheads are kissed by fire." He said, taking pleasure in noticing that Weasley's expression had shifted from self-assured and cocky, to desperate and afraid.

A thought and the man was covered in a thick, black, oily substance – if he left him now he would suffocate slowly over several hours.

Voldemort didn't have that kind of time.

"Would you like to be kissed by fire, William?"

' _Incendio.'_ He thought, setting the tar up in flames.

The screams caused the battle next to him to stop as the girl let out a pained sob, deflecting one of Bellatrix's spells as she did so before taking aim at him.

"You're out numbered." He stated. "Leave now, girl."

Bellatrix shot him a glare but he ignored it.

Nymphadora Tonks looked conflicted.

He sighed. "I won't give you another chance."

With a look of sorrow the younger woman retreated.

"My lord?" Bellatrix asked respectfully, a far cry from how she had been speaking to him an hour earlier.

He ignored her as he made his way towards the end of the lane.

"Fiendfyre." He said calmly, directing his wand at the old Potter Cottage several meters off in the distance.

They watched quietly for a moment as the cursed flame destroyed the house.

"You'll have an opportunity to finish the fight, my dear."

Bellatrix gave him a trusting look before raising her own wand.

"Morsmordre!"

She turned back towards him with a smile.

"Of course, my lord."

* * *

He hummed softly as he caressed the pearl-white flower, using his dragonhide covered forefingers to hold the underside of the petals, he used his other hand to cut the prickly green stem.

A thick, clear sap oozed from the fresh cut, Marcel was once again grateful for the gloves protecting him from the venomous substance coagulating near the base of the stem.

He enjoyed clear nights like this in his moonseed garden, harvesting the beautiful flower's deadly gift in the calm, early-morning air.

The soft echo of boots hitting stone brought his attention forward, a small smile on his lips despite the interruption.

"Master." Though his face was obscured, he recognized Stefan's slight Parisian accent and tell-tale high pitch.

"The Dark Lord attacked muggle London and Godric's Hollow an hour ago."

The old necromancer let out a frustrated sigh.

The news was troubling, if not expected – Voldemort's condition had made his actions increasingly erratic of late.

"What do we know so far?" He asked calmly, his attention back on the delicate flower in front of him.

"The wireless is still short on details, Master DuPont. So far there have been at least 80 confirmed dead across the two attack sights, Alastor Moody is reported among them."

Those numbers, he knew, didn't include death eaters or muggles.

"Have you heard from your cousin?"

The other man paused briefly, his hand rubbing the pocket on his hip subconsciously.

"It was a last minute ordeal, the dark lord attacked muggle London himself while another two-dozen death eaters, including Bellatrix Lestrange, joined him afterwards in Godric's Hollow."

Voldemort wasn't normally so unpredictable when leading an attack, preferring measured certainty over anarchistic chaos.

"How many death eaters were lost?"

Stefan's voice was overcome with frustration. "Fourteen either dead or captured, including Clarissa's intended."

' _Is Voldemort bothered by the losses?'_ Thirteen years ago he would have known the answer to that question.

The Voldemort he had agreed to help accepted losses only when they were unavoidable, lately he had shown a blatant disregard for the well-being of those who serve him.

"Thank you Stefan."

The younger man bowed to the necromancer respectfully before leaving him alone in his garden once more.

There was always the possibility that Voldemort and Bellatrix had planned the attack themselves, leaving the others in the dark till the last minute to avoid leaks.

' _That's the best case scenario.'_

He dismissed that thought as soon as it entered his mind – the dark lord was too paranoid to confide in Bellatrix Lestrange, believing that she was chasing his power.

' _What led him to lead a last minute attack?'_

' _Paranoia? Instability? Anger?'_

All made sense. Absent was the cold, calculating, ruthless leader he had come to respect as a wielder of magic; replaced by an emotionally-driven psychopath, the result of an experiment guided by ego.

' _One that I helped him carry out.'_ He reminded himself, casually rubbing his recently-healed clavicle.

" _Our revolution is about restoring balance and pushing the boundaries of magic!"_ Voldemort had once passionately exclaimed to him.

" _No man, woman, or child who practices magic should have to live in fear of persecution! No practitioner of magic should have to restrain themselves for fear of exposing themelves to muggles! We are the height of evolution, our place is at the top of the food chain!"_

The charismatic young dark lord had given a voice to the whispers and desires found in pubs and private studies across Europe.

' _Maybe we pushed too far?'_ The thought lingered unpleasantly in his mind. By rule he didn't reminisce on the morality surrounding his experiments; in the quest for the advancement of society, sacrifices for the greater good were necessary.

' _He pushed.'_ Marcel reminded himself. _'Had he limited himself to three…'_

Yes, that was it.

He stared absentmindedly at the horizon as the first vestiges of daylight began to make itself known.

Voldemort was on the verge of losing control of his cause, he knew that better than anyone.

' _How do I survive this war?'_ He thought to himself, running his mind through various scenarios.

The most likely outcome would be his own death, either at the hands of a government or Voldemort he did not know.

His thoughts turned to the bracelet kept under ward and illusion in his study. It would be a shame to have to use such a creation so early in his life.

' _Is it avoidable?'_ He did not know, the world was becoming increasingly volatile, he wasn't sure who would emerge from the flames.

' _Potter.'_

The boy was ruthless with the talent and political clout to match, if anyone could secure peace for his remaining years it would be the boy.

' _The young Lord won't stand in the way of magic.'_ He was confident in that, his great grandniece had told him as much before her boyfriend disappeared.

Gathering the basket of flowers still at his feet, the elderly necromancer made his way to his study a letter already penning itself in his head.

* * *

' _Left or right?'_ He thought to himself, immediately discounting the tunnel straight-ahead of him.

He stood quietly for several moments, tapping his foot on the hard ground of the small chamber as he thought, a fresh piece of parchment floating in front of him, mapping his route as he explored.

Getting lost with Daphne a week earlier had led him to reach out to Remus for advice on making a map.

What he had received in response was Moony's handwritten manual on the creation of the Marauder's Map; a manual he had devoured greedily.

' _Or do I go to potions?'_

Harry found himself in an unfamiliar situation as he pondered the decision in front of him, unsure of what to do.

He was _supposed_ to be in potions class brewing an advanced shrinking solution; but with Terry missing, and Lily no longer there to keep him company, Harry couldn't find the motivation to sit through ninety minutes of Snape.

Lily's bubbly personality and passion for astronomy had carried over to potions which had, at least in part, been passed along to him. While he would never be a potions master, under Lily's tutelage he had been well above average.

The dip his marks took as a result of her murder were stymied by Terry's vast knowledge on the subject, courtesy of his mother Melisa.

With both gone he had nobody in class to help watch over his work.

' _Not potions.'_ Not after the attacks from the night before. Potions would only stir up emotions he didn't need to deal with that today.

So he found himself here in the cramped, dank torchlight of the Chamber of Secrets, free to explore as he wished without Daphne's chirping to distract him.

The situation itself – parked in front of Salazar's chamber, debating which route to take– was a distraction from the thought that just about everyone he had ever cared about was dead.

' _Or has been tortured into insanity.'_ He added solemnly, his mind conjuring images of Mad-Eye Moody.

That realization had darkened his mood considerably. It was a cruel twist of fate to spend the first few years of your life alone in a state of neglect, only to discover friendship, family, and self-worth right before having it ripped away from you piece-by-piece.

The 'Daily Prophet' published two separate editions that morning; the normal periodical followed by a special report outlining Voldemort's attack on London, the death of Alastor Moody, as well as the attack on Godric's Hollow, his childhood home that had left eighty innocent people dead.

The timing of the attack hadn't gone unnoticed, taking place exactly fourteen years after a magical anomaly had ended Voldemort's first reign of terror, leaving him an orphan.

" _Is The-Boy-Who-Lived a Target?"_ The prophet had speculated.

' _If they only knew.'_ Voldemort didn't like threats to his power, with Dumbledore and now Moody gone, he represented the biggest threat to the dark lord.

He glanced at the piece of parchment floating in front of him in wonder as a detailed map of his surroundings had appeared, detailed in a thick, black ink.

Transfiguration and a penchant for trouble hadn't been James Potter's only talents. He had, according to Sirius, been the best in their year at Arithmancy as well.

The arithmetic formulas contained within the Marauder's manual, he was ashamed to admit, were several years beyond him.

He watched the burgeoning map in ignorance of how it worked as he took the tunnel to the right, his movements appearing in great detail on the piece of parchment in front of him.

The tunnels in this part of the chamber were more like corridors in a well-maintained home with its rich mahogany floorboards and beige painted plaster walls covering the stone and grime of the pipes while ornate torches lit his path forward. The air even smelled pleasant, like lavender with a subtle touch of vanilla.

The grandiose nature reminded him of Tom Riddle's study, with its large, well-crafted wooden desk, silver candlestick holders, its chairs and loveseats upholstered in deep emerald velvet.

Without much thought, Harry cast several diagnostic charms on the vast corridor.

He scratched his wrist absentmindedly in between jotting the results of the diagnostic in his journal as he began to read over the results.

After several long seconds, he felt his mind begin to wander, the results of the diagnostic charm momentarily forgotten

' _I wonder if the map can be charmed to show protections on a given room?'_

The Marauders had thrived in the complicated fields of arithmancy, spell creation, transfiguration, and even dueling.

Unfortunately they lacked interest in wards and wide-area protections.

" _For all his brilliance James couldn't cast so-much-as an anti-apparation ward."_ Sirius had told him seemingly a lifetime ago.

He missed his godfather's ability to listen; to allow Harry to rid himself of all his doubts and frustrations.

" _Your mother, on the other-hand – she could do anything."_

Lily Evans had been a kind, brilliant, fiercely loyal child who was transitioning into a kind, brilliant, loving mother prior to being viciously cut-down by Voldemort.

" _Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything"_

The words – her last – plagued his nightmares for years afterwards, leaving him confused and alone in the dark cupboard under the stairs.

He'd spent many sleepless nights alone with the spiders, taking solace in the fact that the terrified woman from his dreams – a woman he wasn't sure even existed – had cared about him.

He'd often wondered what kind of people his parents would have become, what kind of person _he_ would have become had Trelwaney not uttered those words that had been sure to seal his fate.

" _Neither can live while the other survives."_

If she hadn't uttered that phrase, if they hadn't been overheard by Voldemort's spy, then he probably would have received a card for Samhain this morning instead of a sad reminder of what could have been.

He fidgeted uncomfortably – the corridor was free of protections, he could roam unencumbered.

' _Uncharacteristic.'_ He thought to himself as he scratched his wrist once more. Voldemort liked to hoard his secrets, he didn't strike Harry as the type of man who allowed people to live once they were discovered.

A familiar voice in the distance grabbed his attention.

"Stir counterclockwise Neville!" The cheerful voice of Hannah Abbott echoed off the walls as she reminded her nervous boyfriend from somewhere just ahead.

He found the source a moment later – a small enclave with a familiar portrait of Josephine Flint, the eighteenth century potions mistress that he recognized from Snape's room.

' _What the hell?'_ He thought to himself, putting his eyes up to their correspondent on the potions mistress, granting him full view of the class he was supposed to be in.

"Careful, Longbottom." The condescending voice of Severus Snape called out as he approached the couple's station.

"Adding the spider's legs before waiting a _full_ fifteen seconds will cause that cauldron to melt. I know your family can afford it, but Dowager Longbottom must be losing her patience with your incompetence by now. Your father, if I remember correctly, had a knack for potions; unfortunately you have Alice's idiocy."

Neville took on a nervous expression, the boy's grandmother, Harry knew, was an ornery old bitch. He could almost hear the voice of Augusta Longbottom in his mind:

" _Frank never melted a cauldron!"_

"Don't let him get to you." His former Herbology partner said softly, placing a small hand on Neville's before rubbing her shoulder against his.

A peace came over the chubby boy with kind eyes at the caring words, and Harry suddenly felt guilty for peeping in on such a private moment.

Pulling away, Harry made his way back down the corridor with caution, half expecting to be assaulted by a delayed set of wards.

Instead he felt nothing but another itch on his wrist. Giving it a scratch he made his way deeper into the chamber, lost in thought.

' _What else can I see?'_ He wondered. There was little chance that Slytherin had dedicated this much effort to spy on just one room.

His mind drifted back to his and Daphne's last trip in the mythical Chamber, which had ended with the pair escaping out an exit near the Gryffindor common room.

' _What else can I access?'_

Was this the secret that the name of the chamber alluded to? The ability to spy on the castle unhindered?

He caught a flickering out of the corner of his eye and paused, his eyes finding a spot on the floor.

Crouching down and bringing himself to floor level, he let out a sly smile. A thin band of clear magic was shimmering in the torchlight.

Flicking his wand back into his hand, another flick told him that the simple ward muted sound outside of a certain area.

Hesitantly he crossed the ward line to be greeted by a soft, rhythmic humming that got louder the closer he got to a portrait of a large meadow and a dancing girl.

A small grin came across his face as approached the portrait, curious to see what he would be looking in on this time.

He watched in mild disappointment as he was greeted by Professor Sprout grading essays on Mandrake roots.

He let out a sigh as his eyes were drawn to his occupied hands once more.

' _Why am I scratching my wrist?'_ He thought to himself as his left hand, of its own accord, dug his nails deep into his right wrist, the patch of skin covering the vein red and raw from the scratching.

His mother was completing her mastery in charms at the time of her death, he knew that much.

Daphne had expressed an interest in obtaining a mastery in charms not that long ago, thinking she would spend her final year at Hogwarts working towards obtaining that while starting her defense mastery.

Her evolving obsession with Malfoy and Lestrange had caused her to put thoughts of _formal_ education on the back-burner until her lust for revenge was satisfied.

' _Malfoy.'_ That was another situation that needed to be dealt with, he had half a mind to corner and question the boy in an unused classroom himself.

Magwood, Rosier, Atwood, Morningstar. The four had been plotting revenge with Daphne, he knew it.

' _Better me then them.'_

He and Daphne's social stations, and _reputations_ had begun to earn them admirers from all walks of life – from purebloods like Rosier and Morningstar, to halfblood's like Atwood, Hopkirk and the Creevey brothers.

All had their own reasons for seeking them out, the only similarity between the growing numbers of people vying for their influence was a chance to be closer to power than they already were, hoping to ride their coattails to success.

"Henry!"

The shrill voice of an unfamiliar girl drew him from his thoughts once more.

"Quiet Lucy! Do you want to get caught?"

The boy's voice was full of mischief as Harry approached the statue of a griffin.

Looking through the eyes he was greeted with two half-dressed sixth years in an empty classroom.

' _Nope!'_ Harry thought, pulling away, unwilling to become a voyeur to a pair of Gryffindors.

As his left hand broke-away from the griffin he was surprised to see droplets of blood on the stone statue.

' _What the hell?'_ He thought suddenly aware of the scratched off layers of skin on his right wrist.

' _What's going on?'_

Waffles. James Potter had loved waffles, according to Sirius.

His thoughts drifted as the familiar fog returned as he continued on his journey.

Harry, to that point, had never had waffles – the Dursley's having never bothered to treat him to such a delicacy while Hogwarts didn't traditionally serve the sweet, syrupy delight.

" _He especially liked it with fried chicken!"_

" _Chicken?" Why chicken?"_

 _Sirius shrugged. "We picked it up in America after graduation while traveling through the south!" He stated enthusiastically. "Musicians needed something to eat after their late-night shows and they didn't know if they should eat supper or breakfast, they came up with this as a way to satisfy both cravings!"_

A crunching beneath his feet drew his attention back to the corridor in front of him.

' _When did it get so dark?'_ He thought as he lit his wand.

Beneath him and extending a hundred meters out was a dried up snake skin.

' _What the hell?'_

Looking down he was horrified to see his the blood-soaked fingers on his left hand tearing away at the flesh on his right wrist.

Suddenly he felt light-headed from the blood loss.

' _How long have I been bleeding?'_ He cleared the thought from his mind as he cast a healing spell on his wrist.

The spell disappeared upon contact as blood continued to flow from his vein.

' _Potions would be over by now…'_ He found his mind begin to wander once more before clamping down on his occlumency.

' _I missed something.'_ Somewhere a subtle curse had been placed on him.

He fumbled with his wand finding it hard to concentrate due to the loss of blood.

' _Shoes.'_ The thought entered his mind as his diagnostic fed him the answer.

Too weak to remove the curse, Harry removed his shoes and felt the fog begin to lift from his mind.

Stumbling down the corridor he began to recognize his surroundings, quickly making his way back to the second floor girl's bathroom.

' _Tom's room.'_ He thought. If he made it to Tom's room he could grab a blood replenisher.

The thought stayed with him for a moment until he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Blood-stained white shirt, black cloak, matted hair and an open wound on his wrist. He was too weak to clean up his appearance and too far from Tom's room to make it unnoticed.

He could, however, make it to his and Daphne's room.

' _I hope she has replenisher.'_ He thought.

Dizzy, he stumbled through the tight passageway passed the wards protecting their abode.

Entering the dark room he wrote off the soft thump in the distance as a figment of his imagination, clumsily making his way over to Daphne's store of potions, desperate to replenish the lost blood and close the wound.

Offhandedly he noticed Daphne had used the rest of her polyjuice potion before grabbing the blood replenisher, downing it in one go.

Feeling his strength beginning to return, he bandaged his right wrist tightly before lying on the soft, dark brown leather couch, falling asleep before his head hit the cushion.

* * *

He moved gingerly through the sparse kitchen to the equally spartan dining room, attracting the attention of his young prisoner.

Boot eyed him with worry, his freshly pressed dark brown robes matching his eyes and glasses.

Antonin waved him off before the boy could help him. He wouldn't allow himself that embarrassment.

"The dark lord's punishment lingers, Sergei?"

He scowled. Potter had done significant damage to his torso, weeks after the conflict, the pain lingered.

He had underestimated the child and it had nearly cost him his life. Leaving him instead with the embarrassment of defeat and the sense of humiliation he felt whenever he was summoned to his lord's side.

His face wore a sad grimace. "I am powerless against him, as you well know."

This was a fact. Sergei was an ill-tempered, physically intimidating man, but that was it. Sergei used his fists on his victims in lieu of his wand.

A sorrowful nod was the only response the cruel man received. Terry was well-aware of these things

Two months ago Terry would have questioned his lingering injuries and the inconsistencies in his ever-evolving story.

A sheep occupied the chair of a once intelligent child.

Antonin took pleasure in the sad, broken expression marring the boy's exhausted features.

His prisoner lived because Sergei allowed him to live. He lost hope because Sergei allowed him to lose hope. He obeyed Sergei because Sergei protected him from the wrath of the dark lord.

For Terry to see his captor, his _friend_ in such agony after a meeting with his lord caused the boy to lose hope.

' _If Sergei couldn't stand up to the dark lord, who could?'_

The bitter irony almost made him smile.

He couldn't keep him, not anymore, the dark lord had no further use for the boy.

A shame, really. The child was a masterpiece, he couldn't let that go to waste.

Fortunate for him, the dark lord agreed.

Sergei stared back at Boot with his sad, hopeless eyes.

His ability to manipulate had returned to him effortlessly, refusing to be dampened by the slow insanity forced upon him at Azkaban.

He allowed a bit of hope to return to Sergei's eyes, causing Boots expression to mimic his own.

"The dark lord is willing to let you earn your freedom though, my boy!"

Genuine joy crossed the boy's face, for the first time in months the boys smile seemed hopeful.

"Are you willing to earn your freedom, my friend?"

"Of course!" Terry's joyful response came before he could finish the question.

Sergei gave the boy a toothy grin. "I'm sure Marci will be glad to have you back."

His captive hadn't mentioned the French tart in months yet at the sound of her name now gave room to hope. A determined look enveloped the child's bespectacled face as Sergei began describing what needed to be done with measured enthusiasm.

Sergei, the reluctant captor. He always wanted a happy ending for his guests.

* * *

"Would you like another lump of sugar, Harry?" He imagined a slightly seductive undertone to her voice and nearly blushed.

"Yes, Headmistress." He said with a confident smirk, shaking off his initial thoughts as Septima Vector scowled him playfully.

"In private it's Septima, that goes for you too, Daphne."

Harry had always marveled at the attractive woman's ability to effortlessly switch from playful to serious at the drop of a knut.

"Would you mind ordering some more bacon, Septima?" Daphne chimed in, changing the subject as she eyed his overstuffed bacon sandwich with mirth. "Some of us were feeling greedy this morning."

Septima smiled kindly before fixing him with another faux glare, obliging his girlfriend.

Underneath the table Daphne's hand found his as they ate in a comfortable silence.

Almost instinctively he started comparing Headmistress Vector to Headmaster Dumbledore.

Under the leadership of Albus Dumbledore, students had regularly been rushed off to the headmaster's private office, forgoing centuries of protocol by allowing students access to something so personal.

Hermione had been the one to point out Dumbledore's lapse in established procedure after a meeting in first year.

" _I was expecting to meet with him in the standard engagement office but he directed me towards his personal quarters instead!"_

As headmistress, Septima Vector had taken it one-step further, inviting a different group of students to have breakfast with her in her private dining room on Saturday mornings - a spot on his calendar that had been previously reserved for his meetings with Daphne, Theo, and Terry.

Now half the quartette was missing, something Daphne attributed to Malfoy, a view she was starting to spread among her group of friends.

Daphne had been making wise use of her new comrades, an attribute that was starting to rub off on him.

"How have you been handling your transition to headmistress?" He asked casually, having hardly had the opportunity to speak to his mentor since classes had started back up.

She gave him a tired smile, for the first time he noticed the purple bags under her eyes.

"You tell me!" She said, letting off a bark of laughter.

Harry had the distinct feeling that the retort was meant to make him smile, but her laughter was hollow and the spark of ever-present amusement in the witch's eyes appeared dull.

Green met green as he and Daphne exchanged looks - Dumbledore's "disappearance" hadn't occurred until just before the start of classes, leaving Septima no choice but to continue her teaching duties in addition to those of Headmistress.

"Has the board found a suitable replacement for your classes?"

Septima grimaced. "Bill Weasley."

A rush of mixed feelings had greeted him upon learning of the great cursebreaker's death. The loss of a talented, natural leader so soon after losing Dumbledore had shook Tonks's confidence and depressed the twins.

On the other side of the galleon he remembered the eldest Weasley son's attempts to seize Harry's land for himself. With him dead that problem had seemed to solve itself while erasing an item on his ever-growing 'to-do' list.

A large eagle owl knocking on the oversized window behind them interrupted further conversation on that topic.

As soon as the owl was inside it swooped down in front of him, talon outstretched.

Curious, Harry unwrapped the parchment while the owl ate his bacon sandwich.

From the corner of his eye he saw Daphne shoot him a satisfied smirk at the owl's antics.

"Damn bird." He mumbled.

"Karma, Harry." Daphne chided annoyingly.

The owl responded by pecking at his hand, drawing blood.

"DuPont, DuPont…" He whispered, mostly to himself.

' _Where do I know that name?'_ He frowned as he came up blank.

Daphne eyed him with interest; "Minister DuPont, Harry?"

' _No. That's Francis DuPont.'_

"Marcel." He said absentmindedly.

"Interesting." Septima's tone was more calculating than he was used to.

Across from him an unfamiliar look raced across the headmistresses face before settling into her usual, pleasant mask.

"Why's that?"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Your lack of knowledge when it comes to modern history is frightening."

He bit his tongue. _'Stay focused.'_ Now was not the time to revisit that argument.

"French necromancer. Massive Voldemort supporter. The ICW exiled him to South America after Voldemort disappeared. Since his return he's been helping him."

' _Horcruxes.'_ Highly skilled necromancers may know about horcruxes.

"He wants to meet."

' _There's one left… maybe?'_ The opportunity in front of him couldn't be ignored.

' _Why would Voldemort's followers abandon him?'_

Septima offered him an interesting look; "what are you going to do?"

"I have to meet with him."

He did. Harry couldn't pass this up, Voldemort couldn't flee from death forever.

Daphne nodded in understanding. She would be there with him, he had no doubt.

Septima gave him a worried look. "He's dangerous." She said, placing a warm hand on his. "If you need help preparing for your meeting, I am here to help you in any way I can."

It said a lot about Septima Vector that she didn't try to talk him out of it, he often thought that she would have made a good wife for Sirius.

Thinking of Sirius caused him to pause – the old dog would have acted impulsively, he couldn't afford such missteps.

"What can you two tell me about him?"

* * *

" _You decided to make your presence known after all."_

The husky, female voice had sounded so familiar, but left her mind blank.

" _It took me a moment to find you."_

The second voice contained a familiar confidence that had been easy to identify; she'd hear the melodic voice of Septima Vector in her dreams for the rest of her life, she was sure of it.

Fleur pulled her head out of the pensieve, silently making her way towards the merlot she had left breathing on the countertop as the recording replayed itself in her mind once more.

" _Is there anything in particular our lord would like me to pay attention to?"_

Her words were so ambiguous, Fleur couldn't decipher who Septima had been referring to.

' _Maybe she's going on about Lord Yaxley?'_

The thought filled her with a spark of hope – had she been wrong about Septima?

The woman had practically been raised by the family after her own had been massacred in the last war. Septima very well could be working with Lord Yaxley.

A fleeting hope poked through a hole in her heart for just a moment before being crushed once more.

' _The Yaxley's supported the dark lord throughout the first war.'_

Who cares? There was a war, one side defeated the other, time to move on, the war had ended over a decade ago.

She wasn't so ignorant as to believe either side had been completely innocent during the conflict. Not all the dark lord's supporters were evil, nor were all of Dumbledore's good.

' _There isn't currently a Lord Yaxley.'_ Fleur reminded herself, her fleeting hope retreating within herself momentarily.

' _There are countless lords in Britain.'_ Septima could be referencing any number of them.

There was Lord Diggory, and Lord Goldstein, and Lord Boot…

' _Maybe she's talking about Harry?'_ Her affection for the prodigious boy was obvious, and he was a lord.

' _Twice over.'_ She reminded herself.

The combination of wealth and power – both magically and politically – was overwhelming.

' _If he survives Voldemort he could shape our world for the next century.'_

For the better or for the worse she did not know, but the Delacour family would be well-situated when the time came.

She squashed the vane tinge of jealousy she felt towards Daphne Greengrass as she sipped her wine.

The previous November she had amused herself with the idea that Harry would leave Greengrass for her alluring little sister.

A year later that fantasy made her laugh.

A man like Harry needed a witch that would demand he become his best self – Gabriel didn't have the necessary attitude to push someone like Harry to greatness, Greengrass did.

' _So do I.'_ Perhaps even more-so than Greengrass.

She refocused, shifting her thoughts back to the conversation her first fly had brought her.

Septima might be Bellatrix Lestrange's spy. That had been her hypothesis. If Fleur was working under this assumption, then the lord they were talking about would be Voldemort.

Her theory had sounded so promising at the time, her lover – the dark lord's deadly spy.

' _What if I'm wrong?'_

What evidence did she really have?

A couple looks? Some coincidences? A gut feeling?

And now part of a conversation.

Circumstantial evidence that wouldn't be worth upending both Septima and Harry's lives, all of which could be explained by her own boredom.

She couldn't risk their relationship. Harry was too important to alienate.

' _I need proof.'_

The realization frustrated her to no end as Fleur polished off the last of her merlot, stumbling towards the small wine rack in her modern townhome, grabbing an unopened bottle before stumbling back to her table and pouring herself another glass, desperate to delay her problems for another couple of hours.

* * *

He whistled a jaunty tune as he ascended the winding path leading from Hogwarts to the village of Hogsmeade.

As he walked towards his destination, Anthony's whistling became increasingly labored.

His heavy breathing filled the calm December air with a thick plume of carbon dioxide as the chubby fifth year Ravenclaw paused to enjoy the view of the Black Lake to the north and the quaint village to the east, his attention being drawn to the dazzling red 'Hogwarts Express' sitting patiently in Hogsmeade station, waiting for a batch of students fresh off exams and eager to get home for the holidays.

Reaching into his leather bag, he pulled out a compact camera. Taking a moment to find the perfect angle, he snapped several pictures, a content smile dancing on his normally arrogant face.

It would have been much easier to relax in a thestral drawn carriage, but then he wouldn't be treated to the best view in Scotland.

Putting his camera away, Anthony took his time as he began his descent towards Hogsmeade – he was in no hurry, after all.

Michael had come to the conclusion midway through first year that Anthony, being the most cleanly and organized of the first year boys, would be in charge of holding a cabin on the Express for the group.

The only thing that had changed in the years since was his motives for arriving early.

' _Please review WR1295 in preparation for Tuesday's vote.'_

He smiled as he re-read his father's brief note for the hundredth. Returning home meant his real education continued.

While not particularly wealthy, the Goldstein family retained their historical vote on the Wizengamot, with that came a degree of power.

' _Especially given our new independent streak.'_

Leaving the safe confines of Dumbledore's Liberal Party to vote as they wished had made the Goldstein's a relevant power in political circles once more.

"Mr. Goldstein."

The gruff voice interrupted his stupor as a frown settled on his lips.

"Professor Avery." He greeted his Charms professor with a reserved respect.

One of the benefits of his family's independence in the Wizengamot had been Lord Malfoy's including him in his son's tutoring with the reputable former auror turned professor Daniel Avery as a way to curry favor with his father Antonio.

' _What's he doing out here?'_

It was a fair thought, he'd just seen the professor a half hour prior when they had been finalizing their schedule for the holiday break.

' _What could be so urgent?'_

"Would you come with me?" His tutor's half plead, half command caused him to roll his eyes as he checked his watch.

' _I still have twenty minutes.'_

"I only have a minute."

His professor nodded. "I only need a minute, I have a message from Lord Malfoy for your father."

He let out a frustrated groan.

' _Of course he does.'_

On the surface including Anthony in Draco's personal training sessions had seemed like a way to help him with his marks. He had, however, quickly come to realize he and Draco were meant to act as messengers between the two houses.

His professor's gaze wandered ever-so-slightly before an uncharacteristic snarl came across his face.

"Keep it moving, Miss Lovegood!" He snapped as the pair ducked behind a handful of trees midway down the hill.

He hadn't even noticed the strange girl approach.

Turning his attention back to Professor Avery caused him to jump back in surprise as he found a long piece of holly pointed at his head.

His mind barely had time to register the words as the deadly green light of the killing curse hit him square in the chest.

Wand away, Daniel Avery grabbed the boy's body, dragging it back into view of the main path before calmly walking back towards the castle, making sure to pass directly in front of Luna Lovegood once more.

Once inside the castle, Avery entered an unused classroom, making his way to the back of the room he smiled a cruel smile at the petrified clone of himself in the corner as he felt the effects of the polyjuice potion begin to wear off.

A minute later Septima Vector was fully dressed once more, smiling at her success.

Her memory charm wouldn't have held forever, when it failed she didn't need Anthony Goldstein, of all people, remembering her attack on the Greengrass girl. There could be no loose ends.

* * *

"How was your potions final?" He asked, his voice a little strained.

She smiled. He was making an effort, it was her turn.

Daphne set her fork down with a shrug. "Exceeds Expectations, at best."

A look of surprise washed across Harry's handsome face while he cut himself a piece of ham to go with his eggs.

Harry thought she was good at potions, that's why she had been able to skip ahead a year after third year. His own lack of interest in the subject had allowed her to maintain that charade.

Her interest in poisons along with Lily's goading had kept her afloat. Daphne's interest in the subject had died with her.

"Snape doesn't exaggerate the jump in difficulty."

He eyed her with a boyish grin. "Maybe I won't take potions at the NEWT level after all!" He said with a laugh.

Daphne couldn't help but notice the similarity between Harry and the picture of James Potter she had seen sitting on his nightstand when he decided to truly let go.

She rolled her eyes but decided to play along. "That would likely be for the best."

The two had fallen into a habit of speaking in hyperbole about the platitudes that ruled their day to day lives, ignoring the little things that made life, _life._

Daphne had recommended spending meals focusing on each other.

"I noticed you flying off to the forest the other night." She offered Kreacher her glass for a refill. "How's your progress coming?"

Upon seeing Dolohov utilize a broomstick as a tool of war, Harry had to teach himself how to fight in the air.

Once more, he had identified a deficiency and taken the initiative to rectify it. His determination to be his best-self overriding the mental and physical protests from his already strained body.

Daphne's question made him smile, and her heart skip a beat.

A lot was said about the intensity of Harry Potter's emerald orbs. Less was said about the satisfied, confident look brought out by his sense of accomplishment. It was inspiring.

"I am really making progress." He said, self-assured satisfaction in his changing voice.

Daphne nodded at all the right places and asked the right follow up questions, all the while her mind was back at Greengrass Manor.

It had been nearly six months since that day, this was her first major holiday without her family.

"Fred and George have promised to fly with me in the spring!" Harry said as she once again nodded enthusiastically.

She crushed the impending emotional outburst, saving it for later.

' _I need to go home.'_ It was time. Her mind healer had said as much. She needed the closure.

"Speaking of the Weasley twins…"

Daphne felt her mood begin to sour – here it came, the topic he had been dancing around for days.

"…have you given any consideration to their offer?"

She crushed her rage. They'd already had this conversation, she would be killing Draco Malfoy, not giving him an opportunity to weasel out of retribution.

"You seem to discount the heated meeting Septima witnessed between Lucius Malfoy and my father _minutes_ before my family was destroyed."

Harry wanted to roll his eyes, she could see it on his face. But he didn't dare escalate the situation.

"I am not discounting anything." Harry's strong point wasn't conflict de-escalation so his statement had little effect – she grinned. He was trying, she couldn't stay mad at that.

"We have an opportunity to question him. If his family is guilty, then you can kill him."

She took a moment to digest the conversation.

When the topic of mercy was first broached she had been apocalyptic at the idea of letting her family's murders go without retribution.

The fight had lasted the first two days of break before she had calmed to a point where she would hear Harry out.

" _We need to get this right."_

" _What happens after you get retribution? What's next?"_

She didn't want to tackle this topic, not now.

Daphne dug her heels into the thick oak floor boards, pushing her chair outwards before standing up.

"I think I'm going to go home today."

His eyes lit up once more, previous topic momentarily discarded.

"I'll fetch my coat."

The offer was sweet, his reasoning sound. But this wasn't something she could do with anyone, not even Harry.

She shook her head, narrowing the distance between the two before leaning in for a light kiss.

Daphne let her hand linger in his as she pulled away, her fingers brushing gently against the palm of his left hand seeming to have a calming effect on him.

"Not this time." She said, mindful of her tone.

She cut-off his protest. "Don't worry." Daphne stated softly as she patted her pocket. "I have my portkey."

If anything were to go wrong she could always portkey away.

Harry's brow furrowed but he said nothing as they reached Grimmauld's apparition point.

She landed softly, her eyes shut.

Slowly her eyelids opened; the familiar, yet somehow foreign wards protecting the property seemed to hum at her presence.

She looked around the room; high arching windows overlooking the rolling hills covering the property. Her neat, orderly desk with two shelves packed with books. Her large, body length, sterling silver mirror - aunt Ophelia's mirror - pushed against a pale purple wall sparkled as though it had just been cleaned.

Daphne's room looked as though she had never left.

"Mipsy!" She called, wondering if the elf was even still alive.

The wrinkly green creature lit up in recognition the second she landed before launching herself at the silver-haired girl.

"Lady Daphne!" Mipsy sobbed. "Mipsy never thoughts she's be seeing you's again!"

Daphne scowled but kept her composure. "Thank you for maintaining the property, Mipsy. Would you put on some tea? I'd like to be alone for a while."

Her elf nodded in solemn understanding before disappearing silently.

She headed over to her desk and picked up a picture of her and Astoria from the Christmas prior, laughing and waving at the camera, Harry off in the background running his hand through his hair as he talked with her father.

For a moment it was like the last six months hadn't happened and she was preparing to meet her mother for tea.

Victoria would ask her about the previous term, she'd answer with a mixture of half-truths and lies; disinterested in discussing her private life.

A tray of tea and biscuits appeared on her desk, shaking Daphne from her thoughts.

Grabbing a biscuit, she noticed her storage trunk sitting in the corner, reminding her of one of the reasons she came here in the first place.

"Mipsy!" She called out once more, summoning the creature.

"Yes Lady Daphne."

"Begin moving the contents of this house to the family vault at Gringotts. Start with my father's study."

Mipsy nodded sadly. "Lord Alfred already beguns that process Lady Daphne."

She nodded knowingly, hiding her surprise behind a layer of occlumency.

' _Why?'_

"Kreacher!" She yelled.

A second went by before a sickly elf with a toothy sneer appeared. "Mistress Greengrass be calling Kreacher?"

She scowled at the demonic little bastard. "Help Mipsy pack up the contents of the house starting with the valuables. Leave my sisters room for me."

Tears began to swell in her eyes at the thought of her baby sister.

She'd be lying if she said that Hogwarts had been the same without her. Daphne had particularly missed their Thursday lunch dates.

Retribution now filled that void in her heart.

A few flicks of her wand and her possessions packed themselves into her storage trunk.

Daphne stood in her doorway taking a look around her now sparse room, her face void of emotion she shut the door behind her unsure if she could ever return to such a painful place.

She looked out in front of her, down the long hallway that led to her sister's room.

The once full walls now lay bare, she noticed, silently marveling at the efficiency of the two house elves.

Astoria's room was painted a pastel green. In contrast to her orderly, largely depersonalized room, her little sister's quarters were a monument to her life.

Pictures of her with her friends, along with posters dotted the walls.

Daphne paused as she reached Astoria's nightstand, reaching out apprehensively with her right hand, grabbing the white gold picture frame closest to her bed.

She stared longingly at the picture of a ten-year old Astoria with a pig-snout snorting wildly at her older sister who was standing less than two meters away, a triumphant look on her face.

Daphne had forgotten about that day from break her first year. Harry Potter had been making the Ravenclaw common room laugh with that gag for weeks, Lily had claimed.

She couldn't allow that, so she practiced for days to get the simple transfiguration perfect.

Astoria had been her willing test subject.

Either her sister had been too young to understand the stupidity of that decision or she had trusted her older sister completely.

' _Probably a little bit of both.'_

"Lady Daphne!"

The frenetic voice of Mipsy interrupted her.

She stared at the picture for a half-second longer before turning her attention to the small creature.

The elf looked absolutely terrified.

"Lady Death is here! We musts leave!"

' _Who?'_

"Who is lady death?" She asked, wand in hand.

Harry was right, the estate was being monitored. Her mind drifted back to the feeling the normally welcoming wards gave her upon her arrival, she had attributed it to her long absence in the moment.

"Lady Death is being here."

She didn't have time to unpack that mystery as her diagnostic spell confirmed another magical presence in the house.

"Pack up the rest of Lady Astoria's belongings and bring them to my room at Grimmauld Place."

Daphne ran off, leaving Mipsy to finish packing her sister's rooms.

' _Lady Death?'_

She rounded the corner, descending the spiral stairs to the large atrium.

"Lady Greengrass!" A delighted familiar voice cackled. "We meet at last!"

It made sense, Mipsy's nickname for the vial witch who had killed her great aunt.

The familiar voice of Bellatrix Lestrange caused her insides to boil with rage.

She had been waiting for this moment for as long as she could remember, she wouldn't let it go to waste.

Daphne dropped into her dueling stance.

She had played this scenario out in her mind thousands of times, planning the first half-dozen spells she'd fire off when the time came since before Daphne had even arrived at Hogwarts.

'Cannoventus.'

She thought, filling the familiar family atrium with a thick, black smoke.

"Taking away one of my senses Daphne? Very good!" The older woman retorted condescendingly.

She ignored the jibe, remembering the late Alastor Moody's account of various duels with the witch across from her.

"She's a talker. If you find yourself in a duel with her, take advantage of your opening."

Quickly she disillusioned herself, taking the extra moment to silence her shoes before jetting towards the wall closest to where she had last seen Lestrange.

By the time she had completed her journey she was less than five meters from her grinning target.

"Impressive, Daphne." The amusement evident in the older woman's voice as her eyes drifted like an eagle hunting its prey.

"Maintaining one's emotions in stressful situations was one of the first things Ophelia taught me."

She smiled internally at the taunts, refusing to give the woman what she desired most.

'Isoboller.' She thought, dropping her disillusionment charm to start her attack.

The jagged shards of ice erupted from her wand, giving away her position.

The moment Bellatrix moved to melt the ice Daphne made her next move.

'Jahannam.'

Black orbs of fire closed in on Bellatrix from all directions, forcing her out of her comfort zone by making Bellatrix shield.

Seizing the opportunity, Daphne followed up with a mixture of bone-breakers and flesh eating hexes, desperate to land the first blow.

Having taken care of the fire, Bellatrix found herself out of immediate danger, dipping into a familiar dueling stance.

"You've adopted Ophelia's unique style, I see." Bellatrix observed as she batted away the last of Daphne's spells.

Bellatrix's casual comment sounded less like a taunt and more like an observation.

The style had been all she had ever known, having learned from Ophelia's diary after her own father had confessed his lack of expertise in the art of combat.

Ophelia's influence on her former apprentice was apparent during Daphne's next wave of attacks in the way Bellatrix elegantly danced herself out of danger, seemingly simplifying the perilous situation Bellatrix had found herself in.

The off-the-mark spells wreaked havoc on her ancestral home as the deadly light collided with mirrors, tables, and vases sending shards of glass and wood hurling through the air.

Lestrange wore a sadistic smile as she re-purposed the debris to wooden stakes and enlarged the shards of glass to the size of a grapefruit, hurling them her away.

Daphne disappeared the stakes before banishing the glass back at her attacker.

Bellatrix let out a high-pitched laugh. "Very good Lady Greengrass!"

Nearly too fast to comprehend, Bellatrix Lestrange began aggressively firing off bone breakers throughout the room.

Daphne pirouetted around the atrium and into the now-empty dining room, pausing in the doorway to ambush her opponent.

Next to her the wall she was leaning against exploded outwardly, sending her flying through the air, smashing against the far wall, falling to the floor with a sickening crunch.

"Better…..hatred….potential."

The jumbled words came to her as her opponent approached her casually, holding her wand loosely at her side.

Daphne made to move for her wand but found herself unable to as a series of ropes restrained her.

Bellatrix's violent eyes stared right through her for a long moment before offering Daphne an approving smile.

"You're too talented to kill, Lady Greengrass." Bellatrix said, her voice surprisingly soft as she closed the gap between the two. "Your great aunt Ophelia once trained me. Giving me strength when the world kept turning its back on me. I owe her everything for helping me to discover my purpose."

How dare she mention her aunt in such a casual manner, as though she hadn't ended Ophelia's life.

"You probably won't believe me, hell I wouldn't believe me if I was in your situation, but I do regret killing her."

' _Lies.'_ The manipulative sociopath was incapable of feeling emotions such as regret.

A soft smile graced her regal features. "If you ever want to reach your potential send me an owl."

Bellatrix made to leave, but thought better of it.

"The execution of your family was not ordered by the dark lord and was the result of a rogue attack by Lucius Malfoy. I had no wish to see your family dead, there are too few of us remaining as is."

The death eater reached into her pocket, removing a small silver sickle and disappeared without saying anything more, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

* * *

"Fred and George got ya workin' this close to the hols, huh?"

The ginger's head snapped upwards, a grin slowly spreading across his rosy face.

"Seamus!" Ron shouted through the biting wind, giving his hand a hearty shake before turning his attention downwards.

"You've certainly grown." He stated to the tiny brunette standing next to him.

Maggie stuck her tongue out at his fellow Gryffindor, Seamus just waved her off.

"It ain't too bad." Ron said, answering his original question. "Galleon and four sickle's an hour to hawk this shit in Diagon Alley." Ron gestured to the various trinkets lying in front of him.

He nodded his head, reaching into his left-breast pocket, removing a flask before uncorking it and taking a sip.

The smooth whisky mixed well with the hot black coffee. He took another sip before offering the flask to Ron.

Ron took the bladder of liquid greedily, his eyes darting to and fro in suspicion.

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Nobody knows what's in it, mate. Quit makin' yerself look suspicious."

Ron took a quick pull, his face contorting as the liquid burned its way down his throat.

"Yer such a witch, mate." He said with a laugh, causing Ron to turn red with embarrassment.

"Looks like Mags has wandered off, mate." Ron said by way of reply, pointing towards the candy shop just down the alleyway.

He groaned. Why couldn't she just stay put for once?

"See ya back at school." He said hastily, grabbing his flask back from Ron and running off after his little sister.

"Mags!" He yelled.

He saw his little sister glance back towards him with a smirk before ducking into an alleyway.

Following the mess of thick brown curls, Seamus ducked down the dim alley, the buildings on either side blocking him from the heavy wind.

"Maggie!" He yelled, doing his best to keep the frustration out of his voice as he positioned his wand in his hand, ready to stun her if need be.

Reaching the end of the alley, Seamus took a right before sighing in relief.

A few meters away Maggie was talking to a brown haired boy who looked to be about his age, but wore dirty clothes and broken glasses.

The boy pointed towards him, Mags following his finger, a playful grin making itself known on her innocent features.

"Thank you!" He found himself saying as he approached the dirty boy.

His voice caught the young man's attention as he affixed Seamus with his gaze, causing him to step back in shock at the familiar face.

"Terry?"


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** If I could make money off of Harry Potter I wouldn't be writing shitty fanfiction.

 **A/N:** In case you couldn't tell, this story is almost complete and should be finished after chapter 27, maybe 28 depending on how it plays out. The first chapter of my new story; **"Two Dozen Veela,"** will be posted in conjunction with the last chapter of PtP. There's more info in my profile but I know how much people like pairings, so I'll say it now: it will be a Harry/Gabrielle story that will be very different from this story **(it will be darker, much darker and more mature)** here's the summary as it stands.

 _ **Summary:**_ _Frustrated by the inaction of the ICW, Gabrielle Delacour reaches out to an old acquaintance to investigate a series of kidnappings. Very Dark. H/Gabrielle._

* * *

"Describe your ordeal, but a little slower this time, Terry."

The soothing voice of the mind-healer with a handlebar mustache and kind eyes asked once-more.

Next to the healer an auror chewed gum loudly while staring at him with a strange look on his face.

From next to him his barrister grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze under the hard table.

" _They're going to question you rigorously, Terry but you will be fine! Your gift for the mind arts will guide you!"_

"We've been through this twice before, Rupert."

Andromeda Tonks' voice was unyielding, causing the auror next to the healer to frown.

"The boy's previous statement was not given in the presence of an auror, Madam Tonks." The auror barked out with the same sense of self-righteous importance that could only be pulled off by someone who worked for the government.

He resisted the urge to peek into the mind of the thin man donning the plum robes of the auror corps knowing that the symbols on his shoulders identified him as an Auror Captain.

" _Don't take unnecessary risks."_

"May I remind you, Mr. Clarke that Mr. Boot is not obligated to speak with you, or anyone else from the ministry. He is not suspected of committing a crime and is a victim himself. The ministry has their statement, the Boot family would like to move on to healing. This is a courtesy, we can stand up and leave at any time."

"It's alright Lady Tonks. I don't mind repeating myself."

Andromeda looked as though she wanted to protest but held her tongue.

He paused briefly to collect his thoughts, staring straight ahead into the two-way mirror across the room, knowing that his parents as well as a slew of Ministry officials were waiting on his response… _again._

"I received a letter from Marci –"

"Marci Beaucourt, the French witch you were dating." The auror interrupted, causing the kind mind-healer to glare at the unwelcome guest.

"Please limit the interruptions, Duncan." His barrister chided, the creases in the older man's forehead making themselves known once more.

"Yes, we were dating."

 _Is dating? Was dating?_ He no longer knew.

' _Maybe when this is all over we can grab lunch in Paris, try that café she was always going on about.'_

"I was at breakfast with my family when the letter arrived. After we finished eating I excused myself before making my way to the beach for some privacy."

"This is where you were abducted?" Auror Clarke chimed in once more.

"Do you want to take his damn statement or not Duncan?" Tonks spat back in annoyance.

"I'm not sure." Terry professed. "It all gets a bit hazy for a while after that. The next clear memory I have is being caged in a cold, wet basement."

"Yes, we know all that." Clarke said irritably. "What we lack is details. What sort of scenery did you have?"

He had spent days rehearsing this next part. Sergei had insisted upon it.

"I was locked in a cell for several months, sir. All I saw was my captor, and occasionally other prisoners."

"Could you see outside your cell?" Auror Clarke pushed.

He hesitated for a brief second.

" _The auror's will ask if you saw any landmarks. Tell them you had a small window that when the weather permitted, allowed you to see a large willow on the shore of a pond where the hounds would take comfort from the heat."_

"There was a small window in his cell, Mr. Clarke." Tonks responded with a hint of venom. "If you had bothered reviewing his previous testimony you would know this."

"I want to hear this first hand, Andromeda." The man shot back.

"The memory has been verified with the ministry, Duncan." She countered with a bit of force.

' _Lady Tonks really is a Black.'_

"There was a small window in my cell." Terry replied, repeating the words of his barrister. "On clear days I could see a large willow tree in front of a small pond."

He smiled weakly. "Whoever kept me had a pair of hounds who liked to lay in the shade."

He felt the energy in the room shift. _That_ piece of information; the willow, the pond, the hounds; hadn't come-to-light in his first interview.

In front of him Auror Clarke had turned around to stare directly into the two-way mirror for a long moment.

"Why didn't you bring this up during the first session?"

He could feel the auror's passive legilimency aching for a look into his mind, he granted the man access before he could detect Terry's occlumency, flooding him with images of the memory he had spent two days memorizing.

He shrugged. "I didn't think it mattered."

"What can you tell me about the person who took you?" He added softly. His tone changing in an instant from nearly hostile to an attempt at comfort.

A contemplative expression settled on his exhausted face.

"He was younger, he couldn't have been more than ten years older than me. High cheekbones, dark hair, brown eyes."

At this point Terry shut his own eyes, as if he were picturing his captor in his mind.

"He smelled like pipe tobacco, his teeth were slightly yellow."

' _He's not very good at occlumency.'_ He thought to himself.

Even after months of disuse Terry could nearly pick up the man's surface thoughts.

He suppressed the urge. The mission. That's what's important now.

"You mentioned in your initial statement that you conversed with other captives as well. Did you recognize any of them?"

He frowned – he had been over this twice before, first with his barrister, then with the healer.

"The Patil twins were being held there for a while." He said sorrowfully, hot tears running down his face.

"They'd – they'd beg him not to touch them, but he always would." He cried, his hand wiping tears from his cheek.

' _If Padma had only been honest!'_

"What happened to them?"

Tonks frowned; "you're asking my client to speculate, Mr. Clarke."

"I know that, Mrs. Tonks." The man snapped back.

He continued, interrupting them before they had a chance to carry on with their bickering.

"I don't know. I heard their screams." He added with a slight tremble in his voice. "There was nothing I could do!" He finished with another sob.

He didn't, neither did Sergei. All they knew was that Voldemort had had both girls at one point in time.

"Was there anyone else?" The auror continued.

"Another classmate of mine arrived a while before I escaped. Penelope Clearwater."

The room went silent once more as a contemplative look crossed the auror's face. "Do you know if she's still alive?"

He paused. Penelope Clearwater was dead, Sergei knew that much.

"She was when I escaped." He stated bluntly.

"You did nothing to help her?" Clarke chided, clearly expecting more of him.

' _What's his problem?'_ He yearned to reach out and touch the man's mind; importance of his finale be damned!

Terry looked down in shame for several seconds, resisting the urge to reach to give in to desire as he prepared himself for the next part.

When he looked up the anguish was written across his face.

"I had no wand! No wand and _**he**_ was coming! What would you have me do? He was coming sir!" Terry started frantically, his eyes darting around the room in fright. "What would you have me do?" He repeated in derangement, standing to pace the room, his fingers intertwined behind his head.

"I think that's enough for right now, Mr. Clarke." Andromeda Tonks said coldly, helping a still hysterical Terry to his feet. "You can make a request to continue this line of questioning at a later date, if you'd like. But my client is done for the time being."

* * *

"Your posture is offensive." She snapped, prodding him in the small of his back with her wand.

Harry frowned, but complied. Standing tall he straightened his dark navy robes as his gaze washed over the groups of lords and ladies all wearing the same well-practiced smiles, making promises they had no intention of keeping to people who knew they were being lied to.

Formal Wizengamot gatherings were among the most dishonest events in their society.

The press ate it up, of course. Rita Skeeter was never more than ten meters away, listening to his and Tonks every word, writing an article full of lies weaved with rumors created in her imagination, no doubt.

The dueling champion looked nice in her ruby red robes, her natural shoulder length black hair hanging loosely while her naturally violet eyes scanned the room for any signs of danger.

It hadn't been long since Tonks refused to be seen in public in her natural form, yet alone out in society.

Whether it was a conscientious move on her part or not he did not know. Death had a way of shifting priorities, he wouldn't be surprised to learn that she no longer cared about the thoughts of others and stopped putting in the effort of altering her appearance.

His eyes landed on the middle-aged redhead headed his way, the young assistant that could easily be mistaken for her son not far off her hip.

The Minister of Magic had gained weight since taking office, while the shit-eating-grin on Percy Weasley's face told him he obviously relished the faux power that came with the twenty-four hour a day job, fending off suitors for the Minister's time with a disturbing sense of glee.

"Minister Bones." He said with an easy smile, his lips lightly brushing against the knuckles of the older woman.

"Lord Potter." She replied formally before turning to Nymphadora Tonks.

' _Interesting.'_

"We're excited to have you, Miss Tonks."

Tonks eyed the minister stoically. "I'm excited to begin, Minister."

Amelia Bones rolled her eyes. "You're excited for battle, Miss Tonks. Nothing more."

Tonks made to protest but thought better of it, shooting him a glance from the corner of her eye as if she was addressing him.

"The Order's gone, I have nothing left. The Ministry's my only option, now."

Minister Bones nodded her head in understanding. "I felt the same way when I lost my family during the first war."

Her voice reminded him of the tone Uncle Vernon would use every time he'd invite a potential business partner over for supper.

"The Auror Corps gave me a sense of purpose. The trials that followed were cathartic, they allowed me to move on." Amelia said with conviction. "Don't let their loss prevent you from becoming great."

"I'm not going to make your mistake, ma'am." Her voice was steady and sure. "I'm going to kill them all."

Minister Bones eyed them tensely.

' _Does she see Tonks as a possible threat?'_

Somewhere between the losses of Dumbledore and Bill, Tonks had lost faith that they could win this war. All that remained was her lust for battle.

He'd bet the contents of his vaults she wanted to die on the battlefield.

" _Does that sound like something the light would do?"_ Theodore Nott's mocking words from long ago echoed in his subconscious, momentarily clouding his mind.

The thought fled a moment later. There is no light. There is no dark. There is only the individual, and the choices they make. It was the individual that controlled the nature of magic, not vice-versa.

The individual was rarely dangerous. The same choice made by hundreds of individuals, however, that had potential.

Tonks' hatred for the people responsible for killing the people she loved had manifested itself different than most.

Tonks and Daphne were alike in that manner. Left unchecked who knows what sort of trouble they would find themselves in?

' _Or find myself in.'_

He seemed to nurture people's more violent tendencies.

The bloodshed levied by the people in his life had paled in comparison to his own sadistic traits.

Should they survive this war the Bones administration would find a way to neuter him for his methods lest he gain too much power.

' _There's a novel idea.'_ He thought with mirth.

He had never given much thought to what came next. The assumption being he'd become another casualty of war.

' _That's not true.'_ A voice in the deep recesses of his mind prodded.

The voice repeated itself, louder this time, forcing Harry to consider the notion that at one point in time he had wanted something else.

Minister Bones continued to converse with Tonks, his thoughts drifting back to Flitwick's spell lists. There was no intent to sacrifice, not then.

" _Incremental improvements, Harry. Anyone can perform a spell, but have you mastered that spell? Can you tell me why 'wingardium leviosa!' with a flick causes your teacup to float? Can you diagram it out? Can you find ways to adapt the spell without changing its nature?_

 _Don't just learn to perform these spells, Mister Potter. Find ways to use them in your daily life. When you can perform the spell with ease try shortening your wand-work and whispering the spell, then eliminate the words and wand work all together."_

 _It will take time, it will take patience. Stick to it, eventually your knowledge of magic will outpace us all!"_

Professor Flitwick had harvested a thirst for knowledge deep within him. He had merely shifted his focus to the more destructive aspects of magic, forgetting its beauty, its purpose.

He shifted his focus back to the conversation in front of him, a plan hatching in his mind.

"Minister Bones, can I have a word?" He butted in, interrupting without much care.

Occlumency kept his voice calm but inside he was a wreck - he could be brought before the wizengamot for what he was about to suggest, but there was precedent.

"Of course, Lord Potter."

He dismissed Tonks with a look, much to her chagrin.

He raised his wand, receiving an immediate reaction from Minister Bones' security team and Percy, only to be waived off by the Minister.

"Relax gents, if he wanted me dead, you couldn't stop him." Her glib tone made it sound obvious, was he really that much more advanced? Even more so than the Minister of Magic's personal security team?

"If you desired discretion, Lord Potter then maybe we should have left the room?"

He shrugged. "They can't see or hear us."

She accepted his response without protest. "Why are we here?"

Cantankerous Nott had been an unpleasant, if not effective History of Magic professor in his short tenure at Hogwarts. He had even touched on the controversial topic of Minister Bagnold's "Day of Healing."

"I have no intention of sitting out the remainder of this war." He started bluntly, not knowing what else to say. "Neither does Daphne or Tonks."

Minister Bones's demeanor became much more guarded while her green eyes momentarily glazed over, a subtle sign that the Minister was engaging her occlumency shields.

' _Good.'_

"You and Lady Greengrass are technically too young to join the auror's however I believe if you were to sit for your NEWT's we could make an exception and the two of you could join next summer's class."

He dismissed the idea. Tonks joined the auror's out of desperation. She couldn't afford clemency.

But he could.

"Out of the question." She hardly looked surprised, though he noticed the small bit of hope hanging in her eyes had been extinguished.

"The Order of the Phoenix is dead, the economy has collapsed." He started, counting off the tragedies on his fingers as if to drive home the brutal truths.

The war effort had bankrupt the country. Without an infusion of gold Minister Bones was in trouble.

"You want to avoid taking a loan from the Americans, and I want myself, Tonks, and Lady Greengrass to live long, happy, lives after this war."

Bones cut him off, looking surprisingly non-pulsed about the situation.

"Five million galleons a piece and the Black, Greengrass, and Potter families will receive no punishment for actions taken against Death Eater's or their allies in this war."

He nodded. This is exactly what he wanted.

"We will want to be made aware of information as it comes in as well."

She nodded. "We have a deal."

"Send me the paperwork so it can be filed with my lawyers."

She nodded agreeably before seeming to hesitate.

"There's a few things you should know." Amelia Bones started, her nerves setting him on edge.

"Daniel Avery has been arrested for the murder of Anthony Goldstein." He nodded sharply, Luna Lovegood had seen the man with Goldstein shortly before he had been murdered.

"Not surprising." He responded bluntly, hoping she'd moved on.

"No…" She started again, trailing off slightly. "But his mind has been altered and there is no memory of the event."

He paused to process the information.

' _Did someone set him up?'_

He had no time to process that new piece of information before Bones was speaking once more.

"Terry Boot was found as well… alive."

He felt his occlumency collapse under the weight of the revelation.

"What?"

His undignified response perfectly expressed his mood. Terry was dead, a casualty of war. He had come to accept that.

"Where is he?" He asked, a sliver of hope hanging in his mind.

Minister Bones fidgeted with her hands for a moment and he felt his stomach drop.

"Lord Boot brought him home yesterday."

He struggled with his emotions for a long moment.

' _What was Edmund thinking?'_

"Where was he found?"

"Wandering Diagon Alley by a classmate of yours; Seamus Finnegan and his little sister."

' _Wandering an alley? How did he get there? Nobody finds that suspicious?'_

"Why was he allowed to leave St. Mungo's?"

The ministry could hold those suspected to be a danger to themselves or others for up to a month. Terry, ironically, had taught him that.

"Terry is a minor." Amelia said, seemingly following his line of thought. "He was questioned for twenty four hours and the ministry found him to have no mental side effects." She stated, her tone making it clear she didn't entirely believe the findings. "As a minor, as a future _Lord,_ the Ministry has no recourse in the matter."

' _Why would Edmund do this?'_

He mentally added visiting the family to his list of things to do sooner rather than later.

"What's the ministry doing about the death at Hogwarts?" He asked, circling back around to a topic he could control.

"We have placed a squadron of auror's at the castle for the time being."

' _Auror's? Really?'_ The ministry, by their own admission, had a plethora of internal threats. Now the ministry wants those threats to protect the school?

A look of confusion crossed his face. "The board of governors hasn't approved this." He stated bluntly.

Hogwarts was a private school established for all practitioners of magic, to be certain, but a private school nonetheless. It was not designed to be a pawn of the ministry.

Minister Bones was about to start before steadying herself. The Potter's may not have a seat on the Board of Governors, but both the Black and Greengrass families did.

' _So do the Bones for that matter.'_

"You can't circumvent the board, _Minister."_

Her eyes narrowed but he wasn't intimidated. The ministry had just accepted a fifteen million galleon bribe from him, they needed him.

"Lord Potter do you have a problem with protecting our children?"

He smiled. "Not at all, Minister Bones. Which is why I recommend hiring professionals who can't be swayed by Voldemort to guard our school."

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"There will be a board hearing on the matter next week, Lord Potter. You can try and sway the board at that time."

He made a show of looking around the grand ballroom, marveling at the expensive cocktails and fancy finger foods.

"Don't forget to send me the appropriate paperwork, Minister. I'd hate for this to be the last social function the Wizengamot is able to hold."

The red haired woman eyed him with a bit more venom than she had a few minutes earlier, offering him a sharp nod of the head before turning on her heel and walking away.

* * *

He sipped a glass of the house claret, his vigilant eyes admiring the curvature of the Garonne all the same.

It was unseasonably hot in southwest France, with the temperature rapidly approaching eight degrees, providing him with an excuse to hold this meeting outdoors.

As his eyes admired the river, they drifted towards the eastern bank, searching the balconies and tree tops for any sign of Remus.

Wondering from just how far his father's old friend was accurate, his emerald green eyes settled on an unassuming blonde woman sipping a tall glass of something white, a fox scarf draped around her elongated neck.

If Marcel DuPont intended to ambush him in Bordeaux, Tonks would be his closest form of backup; Daphne, he knew, was watching from the balcony under his father's old invisibility cloak from somewhere above.

" _Seven meter's out, eight o'clock."_

Harry didn't acknowledge the werewolf, casually turning his attention to a conservatively dressed elderly man approaching him from his left.

" _He's alone, far as I can tell."_

From under his jacket he fingered his wand, wary of the infamous necromancer.

The lanky man with salt and pepper hair offered him an unsettling smile, showing off a row of crooked yellow teeth.

"You have nothing to fear from me, Lord Potter." The pale man stated.

In an instant the man's wand was in his hand and on the table before Harry had had a chance to blink.

His wand still directed at Voldemort's personal necromancer, Harry reached out, pocketing the other man's wand before beginning to layer a series of privacy wards.

" _No threat that I can see."_ Tonks's voice held a tinge of disappointment at the relatively peaceful nature of the meeting.

He hated the expectations these meetings brought; the long drawn out, inconsequential small-talk over lunch, pretending to give a damn about the person sitting across from you before finally getting down to the point of the entire affair.

Why go through all of that for no reason?

"Why am I here Lord DuPont?"

The man's sharp hazel eyes bore through him with a sense of amusement.

"I was told you were more like your father." He said whimsically. "But your temperament reminds me of your mother." The necromancer said, taking a seat while helping himself to a glass of his claret.

DuPont took a sip with a frown. "It's not the worst house red in the city." He said in a tone that suggested otherwise. "I was under the impression you could afford something better, no?" He said, gesturing towards the glass in front of him.

"Order your own damn wine." He snipped before finding his center. He wanted small talk, fine.

"You knew my mother?" He quipped in faux interest.

The only time this man ever met Lily Potter was from across the battlefield.

"Off the battlefield?" He said casually, as though reading Harry's own thoughts. "Once."

What passed for a smile came over his features. "She attended one of my seminars at Beauxbaton's during an exchange after her sixth year." He started. "I am fairly certain she attended it just to attack my research on soul magic."

' _Maybe this will be more direct than I thought.'_

"That's why you're here now, Lord DuPont, isn't it? " He said, refusing to ask more about a young Lily Evans. "We are here to discuss Voldemort's remaining horcruxes, aren't we?"

"Horcrux." Marcel DuPont corrected him. "There's only one left now."

Despite the seemingly insurmountable task ahead of him, Harry smiled; finally some confirmation.

"Because seven horcruxes would have provided the most arithmetic stability." He said bluntly. Tom Riddle could never have passed up that opportunity.

"You sound like him." DuPont stated matter-of-factly before adding "except not as smart with arithmancy."

His face fell as he saw his mistake. Six horcruxes plus a piece of soul left within himself.

Harry's mind raced back to his first year and the procedure that required oaths of secrecy and specialists.

" _Someday you'll understand."_

Dumbledore's long-forgotten words echoed in the recesses of his mind.

He had been a horcrux.

' _Voldemort made a mistake.'_

Six horcruxes plus the remaining soul in his body, that would have been arithmetically sound, but dividing his soul into eight slices?

"When the dark lord was convinced that multiple horcruxes was the best strategy to achieve immortality I recommended no more than two horcruxes. When it comes to soul magic it is better to error on the side of caution, I warned. It appears I was correct."

' _That's working under the assumption that splitting your soul is a worthy effort in the first place.'_

The old necromancer smiled viciously. "For some reason people think they know more than me when it comes to this magic. They do not."

Harry paused to refill his wine before quickly switching it out with Tonks's own wine from several tables away, unwilling to take the risk that the deceptive old shit was as harmless as he seemed.

"What sort of effect has this had on your lord?"

DuPont didn't take the bait, taking nearly a minute to formulate his answer.

"I'm a man of magic, Lord Potter. You of all people should be able to understand this?" He started, his voice quivering for the briefest of moments.

"I've never directly killed an innocent man –"

Harry cut him off. "If you want some sort of sanctioned deal, DuPont, I cannot offer it."

Marcel waved him off. "Understandable." He started. "But in exchange for the information I provide to you I would like an unused property with some privacy and some acreage to retire on in secrecy."

He nodded his head slightly. He had no shortage of property, and if the information proved to be useless he'd kill the old bastard himself.

"The dark lord is effected deeply by his lack of soul." Marcel began, slipping into lecture mode.

"One of the many things that differentiates us from those filthy muggles, Lord Potter, is the presence of a soul."

Despite the circumstances and tone of the meeting, Harry found himself paying rapt attention as the world's foremost mind on soul magic began lecturing him on a theory that was punishable with jail time if word got back to the International Confederation of Wizards.

"Genetic drift and mutation, Lord Potter, have set us on a superior biological path than our muggle counterparts. We have evolved a need for something more than flesh and bones – a soul." He pontificated, the volume of his voice rising slightly as his raspy-ness filled with intense passion.

"Souls provide us with the emotional power we need to fuel our magic. Without a soul, we are incomplete. Without a soul, we die."

"Voldemort's dying?" He stated, DuPont's lecture running through his mind.

The elder man shrugged as he finished his own glass of wine before grabbing a slice of bread and giving it a dab of olive oil.

"I doubt it. He still has two pieces of his soul left. The absence of a portion of his soul, however, has left him emotionally and magically unstable. He's more difficult to predict than you can imagine."

He let the information sink in as he caught sight of a bored looking Tonks.

"Where is Voldemort's final horcrux?" He asked resolutely.

DuPont frowned slightly. "At Hogwarts. Where? I do not know. Bellatrix's spy did not know."

The identity of the spy, was the real information.

' _If I could identify them…'_ He could begin to undo the damage they caused.

"Who is Voldemort's spy?" He said, his voice dipping several octaves.

"I do not know." DuPont said softly. "A young woman that is all I know."

He sat silently for a moment, reviewing the information in his head.

"A woman?" He said, skepticism etched across his face.

"A woman." DuPont repeated between sips of wine. "I'd bet my vault on it." His response was so self-assured he couldn't help but believe him. "Bellatrix always preferred women. She does not get along with men."

Somehow he doubted Bellatrix got along with women any better than she did men.

"Let me know if you learn more." He started to walk away but thought better of it, turning around to face Marcel DuPont once more.

"When Voldemort attacks Hogwarts; if you let me know his plans, I'll give you your retirement."

* * *

She watched quietly as her son squashed several links of sausage between two pieces of toast and took a bite.

His less-than-perfect posture, smile, and insightful conversation gave him the appearance of normal, nothing more.

While his posture was relaxed, his left heel tapped the floor nervously. Much like it had when Ed had first taught him to fly when he was nine. Her Terry had always been afraid of heights, his nervousness, she hypothesized, contributed to that disastrous afternoon.

His smile was easy, true. But his absent hazel stare reminded her of when he was set to meet Marci's parents. He was a bundle of nerves, he said. Terry had her husband's knack for the mind arts, though he didn't normally use them in comfortable situations.

"When do you start the next part of the trial with Remus?"

' _And his insightful conversation is singularly focused.'_

Melisa delayed answering to take a look at her husband, sighing internally as he fumbled with his leather satchel, her bird-like eyes resting on an uncorked well of ink.

Silently she sealed the ink well, securing it in her husband's satchel as she returned her focus to the continuation of last night's topic of conversation.

"Thanks dear," her husband said as he planted a wet kiss on her cheek before making his way to the floo.

Healer Kroll had insisted that her son's narrow focus was completely normal, marveling at the resilience her son had shown on his long road to recovery.

" _It will take time, Melisa. You must be patient."_

A faint smile danced across her lips, Rupert had always been fond of her. Making himself available in her son's time of need was something she would never forget.

"Not until after the war, sweetheart." She said between a sip of earl grey.

Terry's mood seemed to sour momentarily before being replaced by indifference. "You're this close to a cure for lycanthropy? Why would you put that off?"

She frowned at his choice of words.

" _Lycanthropy. It sounds like a terrible disease. That doesn't seem fair."_

"We lack the resources to move forward at the moment is all."

Terry's heel began to twitch erratically as he stared at her blankly for a long moment.

Suddenly his heel came to a halt and he shot her a disappointed look.

"I didn't know you were a quitter, Melisa." He said bluntly, excusing himself from the table.

The late Lord Smith had said something similar after she had set aside her charms mastery to focus on advancing her reputation in potions.

Lord Smith never appreciated the "remedial arts," as he had called them. He never grew an appreciation for the precision needed for her area of expertise, preferring the instant gratification of wand-work to the patient art that could put a stopper in death.

Her father's words being thrown back in her face cut her like a knife, leaving Melisa speechless as her son walked away.

* * *

"… _auror's are looking for the heir to the Yaxley fortune this morning..."_

The news had her attention in a flash.

"… _sources say the twenty-four-year-old is wanted in connection with the kidnapping of Terry Boot, the son of Chief Warlock Edmund Boot. As well as for questioning in the disappearances of Padma and Parvati Patil – daughters of Indian Ambassador Singh Patil, and Penelope Clearwater."_

Septima shut off the wireless at once. Calmly rising to her feet Hogwarts youngest Head in nearly a thousand years gathered a quill, some books, and some parchment with a smile on her face before allowing her eyes to wash over the portraits of her predecessors –resting on the empty portrait of Albus Dumbledore momentarily, wondering which one of his frames he currently occupied.

Even in death, Albus Dumbledore was ever watchful, a thorn in her side.

Septima felt the lustful eyes of Armando Dippet as she turned to leave the historic office and couldn't help but let her mind drift back to Corban.

He was never meant to be his mother's heir, the death of his older sister Evangeline changed all that. Corban Yaxley; the accidental heir to a noble and most ancient house displayed all the insecurities she had come to expect in weaker men.

Her private quarters were portrait-less, thankfully.

Secure in her quarters, Septima Vector marched her way over to a wardrobe on the back wall of her living room.

Opening it with a slight flick, she summoned a bottle of Ogden's Finest and a single glass, pouring herself a few fingers worth before downing it in one go.

Corban could be a problem for her if he were to fall into custody of the ministry.

He'd be at the property in Nottinghamshire, high in the hilltops where he could see for kilometers. The unlisted property had served as a Yaxley safe home for generations, and had always been his favorite as a teen.

She frowned in irritation at the knowledge that as headmistress she could do nothing. Power brought attention and the need for allies.

For a second she realized the frustration of Dumbledore who, like her, had been stuck at a school unable to do what was really necessary.

Begrudgingly she penned a missive to Bellatrix, knowing her help would come at a cost.

' _The price we pay for power.'_

* * *

They stood apprehensively, staring down a narrow set of uneven stairs leading to merlin knows where.

"You're sure the stairway is clear?" Daphne's strong, confident cadence had been replaced in that moment by a degree of uncertainty and weariness born of the Chambers previous traps.

Idly he rubbed the scar on his left wrist before turning to face the Slytherin prefect, wand in hand.

He'd lost a lot of blood the last time he had explored a new area of the chamber, spending the night in his and Daphne's room only to be awoken by the sound of a rat scurrying across the hard stone floor some hours later.

After a few waves the blonde girl with a mischievous grin glowed a light pink.

Harry exhaled.

"Do me." He said with more confidence then he felt. It was unlikely that Riddle would use the same protections twice.

His statement had her raising an eyebrow in mirth.

"Really Harry, here?"

She said suggestively. Her voice carrying the sing-song tone of a mockingbird as her wand glided across his body, causing his face to flush a bright red.

She leaned in, planting a light kiss on the side of his lips. "All clear."

Harry stepped forward into the shadows and down the first step, effectively hiding his still-flushed face from view.

"Let's go." He said with more confidence than he felt.

He found his fingers intertwined with hers as they descended the ill-maintained stairs in relative silence, each displaced stone echoing in the dark, showing the depth of the chamber.

Slowly the staircase widened, and the teens found themselves on a large platform adorned with dimly lit torches.

Engraved on the wall to the front and above them was the Slytherin family crest; an elaborate silver frame containing a silver snake, alert and ready to strike, surrounded by dozens of emeralds with the name "Slytherin" enshrined in silver on a gold plaque.

Off to the right was a much wider marble staircase, aligned with large columns and torches descending in a downward spiral to the now-visible chamber floor.

Slowly they made their way around the platform checking for booby traps, the meeting with Marcel the week prior still fresh on his mind.

" _Bellatrix always preferred women."_

Had Avery been a red-herring?

If Bellatrix really did prefer women to men then it would make sense that she'd place her trust in one.

" _He knows who killed her family."_ George's words rang out in his head once more.

"Clear over here!" Daphne said in satisfaction, turning to face him.

' _Do I press?'_ Daphne's singular focus had been a hot-button topic for months, it needed to be addressed.

"We need to meet with Draco Malfoy." He stated before he could fully vet the idea in his mind.

Daphne's face contorted into one of annoyance. "I thought we were done talking about this?"

They had been, but things had changed. "That was before the meeting with DuPont."

Daphne scoffed, brushing him aside with her right hand. "Why? Because he has a feeling?"

He kept control of his rising emotions, used to the game by now.

"Because he has known Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange for decades!"

The topic of Bellatrix Lestrange hadn't come up often since Daphne's walking into the woman's trap two weeks prior. In fact the only sense he had gotten that Daphne had been at all affected by the ordeal had been with which the frequency of her practice sessions had increased.

She stared harshly back at him. "She told me Malfoy acted alone."

' _She hadn't mentioned that.'_

"And you believed her?"

She broke eye contact momentarily.

"And you believe DuPont?" She countered, avoiding the question.

"DuPont has something to gain by telling the truth, what does Bellatrix get out of this?"

She stared at the ground in a rare moment of confliction. Daphne was bad at admitting defeat.

When she looked up her body language expressed doubt, but she wore a determined look on her face.

"Tea. We can do tea next week."

"I'll let George know." He said as they reached the bottom of the grand staircase, only to be greeted by a large stone archway leading to a chamber of still water littered with thousands of tiny bones.

" _This_ is it?" Daphne said unimpressed.

Her voice sounded like fog in the recesses of his mind, his ears picking up a faint voice in the back of his head.

" _Intruderss."_ The voice hissed.

Harry was reminded of the phantom voice he had heard periodically on his previous trips, fertilizing a thought in his subconscious, a thought seemingly confirmed by the plethora of animal remains in a stone atrium surrounded by open-ended pipes.

The entire structure reminded him of the groups of pipes beneath the Dursley's sink, but on an incredibly large scale.

Salazar Slytherin had built his chamber to house a snake, a beast that could live for a thousand years at that.

' _A basilisk. He went with the basilisk.'_

A passage from Riddle's journal he had read while tucked away in Riddle's study third year finally made sense.

" _Runespoor? Basilisk?"_ Ravenclaw's ancestor hadn't been sure beyond the fact that his beast would be a snake.

Riddle had been postulating which snake the Hogwarts founder had been housing underneath the school.

A runespoor couldn't survive a millennia, a basilisk could.

"Daphne." He said, the fear in his voice penetrating her ongoing diatribe.

She cut off her ranting mid-sentence, her beautiful green eyes as big as saucers. Around him ripples of water began to appear alerting him to the first signs of danger.

"Harry!" She shouted, providing him a milliseconds notice.

He dove to the right, into the knee high water, narrowly avoiding the venomous meter long fangs of the snake lunging at where he once stood, spraying the immediate area with still sewage.

Rolling to his side, he noticed, to his horror, that the basilisk's large body had nearly encircled the chamber, all but cutting off their ability to escape.

He fired off several conjunctivitis curses towards where he hoped the beasts deadly yellow eyes would be while he grabbed Daphne's hand as they burst through the opening and into a large pipe.

They ran through the pipe, chests puffed out they sprinted through the innards of Hogwarts, the massive snake on their heels.

He was a hair faster than Daphne, he noticed. A feat he credited to his longer legs and years of running from Dudley Dursley, Piers Polkiss and the gang.

The pair weaved through the interconnected plumbing, trying to lose the beast on their backs to no avail.

As they ran the pipes contained less grime and even showed a vague light. He figured they were making their ways back towards Hogwarts proper.

The further they ran, the slower they became. Without a reliable map of this part of the chamber or a way out they would soon become victims of Salazar Slytherins great beast.

"Over there!" Daphne shouted in desperation, directing his attention to a crevice in the pipe.

' _Ask and you shall receive.'_ Harry felt himself exhale as he squeezed his body next to Daphne's as they made their way through the narrow passage.

"Don't let the venom touch your skin." She stated from in front of him. "Or your clothes, for that matter, it's very corrosive."

Despite the situation he let out a small smile, he loved the way she ranted when she was nervous.

"Don't forget its deadly eyes." He interjected as they approached an opening.

"Yes." She responded. "You can't forget those."

They were in the dark, dank pipes once more, their footsteps echoing with the crunch of bones breaking under their feet.

"What do we do now?" He asked, curious as to her approach to their situation, one which despite the obvious danger he found incredibly interesting. It wasn't every day you stumbled across a near-mythical creature.

She remained silent for several seconds in thought.

"We're going to take that crevice back to where we came and leave."

"What about the snake?" He countered.

She looked at him and even in the dark he could see her eyebrows gently raised, a sense of slight annoyance written across her face.

"Just hiss at it."

"Simple. I like it." He forced out. Unwilling to admit to her that if it came to that they were likely dead.

"If it comes to that, be prepared to respond with fiendfyre." He said instead.

They made their way through the crevice once more to be greeted with an empty pipe.

Slowly they worked back to the atrium, neither saying a word.

A splash of water told him it was too late.

He could see the scales on the snake's large, dark green head as it made to lunge at Daphne.

"Stop!" He hissed frantically.

The basilisk recoiled in surprise. "You speak?" It said as it turned its head towards him, eyes closed.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"I do." He responded lamely.

The snake's massive forked tongue slipped in and out of its mouth, taking him in, as though determining his worth.

"You taste like the others."

Next to him he was aware of Daphne's looking at him with a sense of curiosity as he conversed with Salazar Slytherin's snake.

"Have there been many?"

The snake stared at him for several long moments.

"Master, young master, and now you, young human."

The snakes tone was almost pained as he spoke.

In a millennia the great beast had only seen himself and Tom Riddle. Thinking back to what the snake had said, he wondered if snakes got lonely.

"What is your purpose?"

The snake's giant tail had moved to a less threatening position, allowing Daphne access to the staircase.

"To protect the school." Was its reply.

"Are you loyal to Tom Riddle?"

Harry fought the urge to sprint towards the staircase as the snake slithered his way towards him, stopping only when its mesmerizing tongue was capable of brushing his nose.

"I am loyal to the school, and its inhabitants." It hissed once more.

"Tom Riddle was once an inhabitant here, he went on to do terrible things." He pressed. "If he came to you seeking entrance into the school, what would you do?"

The snake leaned in closer once more, invading his personal space while making him uncomfortable.

"If Tom Riddles intent is to harm the school or its inhabitants, I am required to protect the school."

He moved to answer a follow up but the snake was already halfway out across the atrium.

"Run along, young human, this is no place for a child."

* * *

Impatiently she flipped through the muggle magazine, her foot tapping the oak floor as she paused to read part of one article before hastily moving on to the next.

' _Tempus.'_ Fleur thought

' _15:00.'_ She let out a frustrated groan. Was there anything worse than waiting for your Friday afternoon to finally end?

Setting her magazine down, she peaked her head out the door of her office.

"Maria?"

"Mademoiselle Delacour." Her assistant answered with a courteous smile.

"Would you mind grabbing me something from Leclair's?"

"Of course Mademoiselle."

The older witch didn't bother asking what she wanted, having gotten used to her order over the past several months.

As Fleur waited for her éclair, she slipped down the hallway towards the partners office, specifically her uncle Henrique's office, eager to follow up on her monitoring wards.

Disillusioning herself, Fleur made her way passed the tart at the front desk and to her uncle's plush quarters.

Making her way to the corner, Fleur pushed aside the picture of Henrique with her aunt Catharine, pausing to look at how happy she looked in that moment.

' _Henrique doesn't deserve her.'_

Tapping the tiny ward, a silver strand connected with her wand, making the tip glow for a brief second before she deposited the impressions in a vial and made to leave the room.

On her way out Fleur was tempted to hit the whore with a curse but restrained herself.

' _Not until after I have proof.'_

Returning to her office, an ecstatic look crossed Fleur's face. Next to a small plate with an éclair on it was her last fruit fly.

Quietly she activated the privacy wards surrounding her office before hesitating.

Steadying herself, she tapped the fly once.

A second later her office was filled with the sound of a woman's sigh, followed by silence.

The silence was broken a moment later by the slamming of a heavy door.

"Septima." The first voice said evenly.

"Bellatrix." She didn't react visibly, but inside she felt her heart break. The admission wasn't unexpected, but she had held out a desperate hope that her suspicion had been misplaced.

"Corban Yaxley is a problem." Her lover's voice rang out clear.

There was a brief pause and the sound of a glass hitting the table. "He is safe, there is no need to worry." Bellatrix sounded as though she were mocking the headmistress, making the veela in her stir defensively.

"He's a loose end." Septima said firmly. "I need you to take care of him for me."

A high-pitched laugh filled her office. "Do it yourself, you've done it before."

There was another brief pause. "This isn't like Goldstein." Septima started. "The headmistress of Hogwarts must remain at Hogwarts."

There was no ambiguity in that admission. She had the headmistress of Hogwarts addressing an internationally wanted terrorist in a familiar manner.

Even as a stream of hot tears fell down her face Fleur felt hollow. She'd gone searching for answers and now that she had been proven correct, she didn't know what to do.

She sat at her desk crying silently for several long minutes before her attitude slowly began to shift.

Septima Vector was Bellatrix Lestrange's spy at Hogwarts and she was going to have a man named Corban Yaxley killed.

The thought sobered her, she was the only one on earth who knew.

She had a role to play in this war. That thought filled her with a nervous excitement. Harry Potter would remember her bravery.

With a bit of daring she'd be famous as well.

A predatory smile crossed her face.

It had been far too long since she and Septima had had lunch.

Grabbing a ballpoint pen and summoning a more formal style of parchment, Fleur Delacour began drafting her invitation, a determined smile on her face.

* * *

The large circular room was well lit and smelled like toffee.

The smell of the candy reminded him of the candy shop he would frequent as a young child in St. Petersburg.

Antonin had had no money back then. His mother having been dead for several years by this time while his father rotted in Siberia. He was forced to steal candy if he truly wanted to indulge himself.

He wasn't a good thief, he quickly realized. He was slow, carefree, and not particularly afraid of being caught.

But he did get caught. Frequently.

Memories of the old shop-keep grabbing him by his scrawny neck and beating him with his cane flooded his mind.

"Where is our Lord?" Severus stated, beady black eyes scanning the room, stopping in kind on each occupant, starting with the necromancer and moving clockwise from Bellatrix, himself, and finally Lucius.

"He is attending to other tasks." Bellatrix snapped, her sunny disposition intact.

' _Was he?'_ He couldn't recall a single time during the first war where a war council had been convened and Voldemort had _not_ been personally involved in the plans.

Lucius made to respond but was cut-off by his sister-in-law, much to his chagrin.

"I have been charged with detailing our lord's next phase in this war –"

" _We_ have been charged with detailing our lord's next phase in this war, Bellatrix." Lucius interrupted, causing Bellatrix to huff in frustration, but otherwise ignore the blonde-haired man.

"We will attack Hogsmeade in early spring." Bellatrix started, only to be cut off by Lucius once more. "An attack on Hogsmeade hardly seems worth our time, Bellatrix. Let the newer recruits take charge on that, allow us to focus our efforts elsewhere."

He couldn't help but agree with Lord Malfoy's assessment. Hogsmeade held less than a hundred permanent residents, most of whom lived above their shops. Levelling the village would cause public backlash at a crucial time. They needed to make a statement, Hogsmeade was insignificant.

A savage look came across the older woman's face.

"The attack will be a diversion." She said smugly. "That is all _you_ need to know."

The room seemed to get smaller in that moment as Lucius and Bellatrix continued to stare unblinking at each other.

Antonin had to admire Lucius's fortitude. While he couldn't defeat Bellatrix in open battle he could distract her while Severus, the slippery bastard, took the bitch out. It wasn't hard to visualize.

Unsurprisingly it was the two-faced bat that broke the silence.

"If your target is Hogwarts." Severus started, his voice dripping with the bored sort of arrogance that only he could pull off. "May I suggest infiltrating before Corban Yaxley is found?"

There was something in the potions masters' odd comment that set both Bellatrix and Lucius on edge.

He let the anticipation in the room build, hoping for the tension to boil over, but it didn't look like it was meant to be.

A smile on his scarred face, Antonin broke the silence.

"What is so special about this particular Yaxley?"

It was Lucius that answered, his eyes trained on the deadly witch in front of him. "Corban is the only one who can identify Septima Vector as her spy in Hogwarts, now that she has killed Goldstein."

The reactions were such that Antonin got the distinction that Lucius had made a major revelation. The emotions around the room ranged from Bellatrix's simmering rage to the curiosity of Marcel DuPont.

"I have already met with the Headmistress. Arrangements have been made, Yaxley will be taken care of." Bellatrix said through locked teeth.

"Our target is Hogsmeade, the Dark Lord insists."

"Diagon Alley would make a better target." Lucius countered stubbornly, refusing to let the topic die. If we were to destabilize the markets further Bones would be forced to take out a loan from the Americans or risk financial collapse."

Bellatrix eyed him coldly. "Our lord has spoken. The target is Hogsmeade."

* * *

High in the hilltops the stars and the moon lit up the landscape surrounding Nottinghamshire for kilometers.

Peter took a deep breath, admiring the view for a moment before transforming into a large sewer rat.

He scampered along the cobblestone path before climbing the drain pipe to the window sill on the upper level.

Taking a deep breath, Pettigrew squeezed his way through the opening in the window and into the bedroom.

Transforming back into a human, Pettigrew removed the silver dagger from his satchel, his eyes resting on the sleeping man in front of him.

"Stupefy." He muttered, the curse leaping from his wand, stunning Corban Yaxley.

For a moment he contemplated disobeying Bellatrix and hitting the man with a simple killing curse before logic prevailed and he made his way over to the large bed.

Sweaty palms gripped the knife as he slashed downwards, the blade finding the soft-spot below Yaxley's rib cage.

Pettigrew was forced to push down on the man's bleeding chest as he tried to extract the blade, covering his hand in dark crimson.

He steadied himself once more before repeating his actions several times.

Breathing heavily the rat made his way to the washroom to clean himself up before casting the dark mark and scampering off.

* * *

"When do you start the next part of the trial with Remus?"

She tried to force a smile to her face. It had been two days since he first asked.

This had been the third time her son had asked Melisa that question since then.

Despite the reassurances from Healer Kroll that everything was okay, she had begun to worry about Terry's mental well-being. His rapid mood swings, short memory, and hair-trigger temper were so uncharacteristic she hardly recognized the sweet boy who would insist on helping her brew healing potions for the foundation.

She stood still in the kitchen, unsure how to respond. Instead she stood with her back to him, staring at the rain as it spattered against the window.

Melissa took a deep breath, that smile finally finding its place on her face and turned around only to take a step back in surprise, at some point Terry had closed the distance between the two of them.

He stared at her through round glasses and dull hazel eyes.

"I told you the other day, sweetheart. Trials have been suspended till after the war."

A look of profound disappointment overcame Terry at her statement.

"I remember." He whispered. "I had been hoping you would have changed your mind after our talk."

She shivered involuntarily.

"Why is it so important to you, Terry?" She asked, a sinking feeling beginning to form in her stomach.

He took a step forward and she took another step back, her heel colliding with the wall.

Her son put his hands on the wall behind her, effectively pinning her to the wall, leaving her no place to go.

A look of derangement came over him.

' _He's not well.'_ Her wand was across the room, she noticed.

"Where are you keeping it?" He asked frantically.

' _Where am I keeping what?'_

His breath smelled like garlic and onions. "Terry." She said, a tremble in her voice. "What are you doing?"

He stomped his foot on the hard floor. "Answer me!" He shouted, his right hand stinging her cheek.

Melisa was so shocked by his violence she almost missed Terry repeat the question, this time more calm.

"Please, mom." He pleaded. "I don't want to hurt you." He said sincerely. "Where are you keeping it?"

"Terry!" She cried. "Where am I keeping what?"

She could see the frustration on his face beginning to build once more.

' _He's not well.'_

She needed to get to her wand before he went for his.

Melisa ducked under his left arm before she felt ropes wrap themselves around her as she fell to the ground.

"WHERE IS IT?" He shouted, his fist connecting to her chest with a sickening crunch.

She gasped for air as he repeated himself once more.

"WHERE IS IT?" This time she felt her nose cave in as warm blood pooled in the back of her mouth.

"I DON'T KNOW!" She wailed, thick blood spewing from her mouth and onto his face.

"WHERE IS IT?" He asked once more, his fist connecting with her jaw.

"WHERE IS IT?" Her son's fists reigned down upon her once more, her breathing becoming increasingly labored.

She was vaguely aware that she was choking on her own blood as she fought to maintain consciousness.

"WHERE IS IT?" The words registered somewhere deep within her, the last thing she saw before losing consciousness was her son's fist.

"There's been a call to the Boot residence! I'm told it's an emergency!"

Margaret shouted.

"Owens, you and Perkins are up!"

He sighed setting aside his magazine as he locked eyes with Perkins, the young redhead seeming eager to have something to do.

"Try not to look so excited Perkins. It's probably nothin'."

She rolled her eyes; "better than sittin' around."

He couldn't argue that.

"Boot Manor!" He yelled stepping through the flame. Next to him Perkins was doing the same on the other floo.

It took him a moment to process what greeted him.

In front of him the Supreme Mugwump rocked back and forth, crying in grief and covered in blood, a battered corpse in his arms.

"WHERE IS IT?" A boy bound in ropes yelled hysterically from next to him, his eyes darting wildly about the room.

"WHERE IS IT MOTHER?" He repeated, directing his words to the corpse in his father's arms.

"Perkins." He whispered, turning to face the ill looking woman. "Go get homicide."

* * *

 **A/N:** This took so long because of vacations, weddings, and work.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or the associated universes, I just play in them.**

* * *

"Apologies everyone." She said with a sheepish smile, having been the last to arrive to the meeting.

The ornate room was highlighted by a large diamond chandelier that reflected the sunlight shining through several stained glass windows in the back.

"No need to apologize, Minister Bones. We all understand the situation you find yourself in."

The silky voice of Lucius Malfoy interjected from a comfortable leather chair, a sorrowful expression on his cunning features.

The resignation of Edmund Boot after the tragic _**situation**_ with his wife and son had left Amelia trying to manage a civil war and a political crisis.

Lucius still wore that faux sorrow on his face as though his friends weren't the reason Terry was never leaving St. Mungo's again.

Coincidentally enough Edmund's resignation as Supreme Mugwump paved the way for Lucius to make his case for the coveted position.

He observed the man a little closer, having either never cared or taken the time to do so previously.

Draco had his father's eyes and hair but that was about it.

Where Lucius's face was long and thin, his son's was more heart-shaped like his mothers.

Where Lucius was tall and skinny, his son was of average height and more stocky than his father.

' _Draco looks more like Cygnus.'_ He thought, recalling the man's portrait in Grimmauld place.

The realization surprised him, though it shouldn't – Narcissa was a Black by birth.

"Shall we begin?" Septima Vector asked from the front of the room, a nervous smile on her pretty face.

Terry never should have been cleared by the ministry to go home in the first place.

Harry would bet the entirety of his trust that Lucius had paid off the mind healers at the ministry in the hopes that something like this would happen.

"It must be uncomfortable for her to attend these meetings." Daphne whispered from next to him, gesturing towards the headmistress. "She gets to sit here and listen to the Board make decisions about her school, without her input."

He couldn't help but agree. If all went well the Hogwarts Board of Governors would leave today having made a massive decision regarding the schools security and the headmistress wouldn't get a say in it. That the head of Hogwarts didn't get a vote on the Board seemed a bit unfair to him.

The two sat quietly as the Board worked their way through the agenda of rubber stamping budgets and pay raises.

The tragic incident with Terry presented another moral conflict he had to grapple with: when did he visit his friend? Would that even be possible? Could he bring himself to do it?

He didn't know if he could, but he had to try. Terry would try if the roles were reversed.

"Our final order of business tonight." Septima began, the room giving her their full attention - this is what they had all come for, after all. "The Minister of Magic has requested Hogwarts allow two dozen auror's access to Hogwarts grounds."

"Minister Bones." Lord Abbott started, directing a kind smile Lady Bones' way. "Would you care to address the Board?"

His vocabulary made it clear that Abbott was addressing Lady Bones in her capacity as Minister of Magic as opposed to a Governess of the Board, making him frown. It was highly irregular for ministry officials to receive an audience with the board.

' _It may be time to amend the charter.'_ He thought to himself. It shouldn't be possible for someone to hold a spot on the Board _and_ a high-ranking position in the ministry. The conflict of interest was astounding.

"Thank you, Governor Abbott." She said warmly as she took the pulpit.

"Death Eater attacks are up nearly two hundred percent in the last eighteen months while just last month the Scion of the Goldstein family was murdered by a professor." She stated bluntly, directing her eyes at Malfoy and Flint.

The pair of death eaters stared back at the minister stoically, plain expressions on their faces.

Objectively Harry couldn't help but respect Lord Malfoy to avoid jail for all these years. Bribes could only get you so far, the Lestrange's had proven that.

"Besides the murder of a student, two professors have been murdered over the last three years." In the corner Septima looked forlorn. "Hogwarts is too large to properly maintain on its own."

Her point was short, direct, and powerful - the future of Britain must be protected.

"A terrible tragedy." Lucius Malfoy interjected, an air of somberness about him. "But Hogwarts has operated privately without ministry assistance or aid for well over a century. An intrusion now sets a terrible precedent and sends an even worse message: Hogwarts is a vassal of the Ministry of Magic." Lord Malfoy pontificated passionately. "It is important that young witches and wizards receive an education free from ministry interference."

Behind Malfoy Flint nodded enthusiastically while off to their right Fawcett, Smith, and Abbott glared Lord Malfoy's way.

"Hogwarts predates the ministry by nearly two hundred years." He continued, his voice having calmed significantly but the passion remained. Harry was hanging on to every word, he couldn't help it.

Pulling away from Malfoy's speech, he found himself observing the room once more.

Dowager Longbottom was impossible to read. Her voting record suggested a staunch opposition to interference in Hogwarts, a tradition her deceased husband's family had carried on for centuries.

After pausing for an appropriate amount of time the Death Eater continued. "It remains the only school of magic in Europe that can say it is truly independent. She must retain that independence in the face of adversity."

The balance of the room remained the same as the pivot remained unreadable.

"I think it would be more prudent to review Hogwarts safety standards, starting with a thorough review of the staff. Only then should we consider next steps."

His eyes shifted to Septima who nodded enthusiastically. "That will definitely be part of the Ministry's process, I'm sure."

Malfoy frowned, clearly he was hoping to have an ally in the headmistress.

He too found himself disappointed; he doubted Dumbledore would have been open to the prospect of interference.

"Of course." Amelia replied as though it were obvious. "The ministry will conduct a thorough review of all the processes and procedures surrounding Hogwarts."

Although he couldn't get a good read on her, his gut was telling him Augusta Longbottom would never openly side with Malfoy.

He nudged Daphne who glanced Augusta's way.

She would, however, respond to a strong young female who recently lost everything. That story was familiar.

"In the seventeenth century Minister of Magic Cornelius Parkinson accepted ten thousand galleons from Orion Black for the exclusive agricultural rights to East Anglia." Daphne had Augusta Longbottom's full attention. "When the Supreme Mugwump suggested levying charges against the Minister of Magic, Black paid him as well."

"The ministry has a well-documented history of corruption dating back over three hundred years. My fear is the loyalty of the auror's, who in the past have been used against civilians."

Daphne's voice oozed compassion and for the first time something seemed to connect with the curmudgeonly woman.

Governess Greengrass seemed to notice, focusing her attention on her more than anyone else.

"The vast majority of the ministry are good people. But for every Amos Diggory there's a Corban Yaxley. For every Alastor Moody there's an Irwin Walsh."

Minister Bones frowned at the underhanded move but he didn't care. Sometimes you needed to be reminded of the bad times.

Walsh's actions had let the Lestrange's and Crouch Jr. in to Longbottom Manor on that fateful November morning.

"I suggest we use the vast resources of Hogwarts to hire private security." Daphne pushed. "The ICW has a rolodex of private security firms to choose from."

He could see Malfoy and Flint smiling the emotion nearly causing him to frown in confliction.

" _You have to play the long game."_ Daphne and Sirius had repeatedly told him as much. Malfoy and Flint seemed to have forgotten that.

Augusta Longbottom had also noticed Malfoy's joy. In that moment Augusta's mind turned to what that man's sister in-law had done to her son and he knew he had lost her.

Walsh may have led Lestrange to Frank and Alice, but it was the Lestrange's that tortured her only child into insanity, but it was a Malfoy who helped Bellatrix escape.

Augusta would kill Lucius if she got the chance, it was foolish to think she would vote with him.

Minister Bones picked up on the shift in the room as well, a victorious smile crossing her face.

"Let's vote."

* * *

She watched as men and women in plum robes scurried to and fro at the corner of Emerald and Merlin as the auror's ransacked Corban's large townhome, the wards having collapsed upon the younger man's death.

Did Bellatrix do this on purpose? Septima couldn't think of any logical reason as to why the older woman would get rid of Corban without cleaning his townhome.

Just outside the perimeter reporters lurked for the chance to photograph Auror Weis as he solemnly stood watch of the scene, looking every bit the part of the hero he thought he was.

Septima was unsure what, if any, contingency plan Corban had in the case of his demise, but she had to assume that he may have left some evidence of her crimes somewhere and plan accordingly.

Leaving several galleons on the table Septima headed south on Merlin till she reached her building at the end of the block.

She walked through the snow-covered courtyard and into the cozy lobby where she tapped her wand to her name on the wall, the familiar tug on her navel transporting her directly into her rather large penthouse overlooking Memorial Park.

She walked briskly through the modern apartment till she reached a bland looking table with a charcoal colored, empty oblong vase on it.

Septima reached into the vase till she was standing on her tippy-toes, almost shoulder deep into the unassuming accoutrement when she felt her fingers grasp the latch at the bottom.

Pulling upwards, Septima heard a distinct click before awkwardly climbing onto the table and stepping into the vase one leg at a time, each appendage fitting seamlessly into the impossibly small vase.

Her feet found the rope ladder on the other side and she began her brief descent before reaching the previously locked door.

Making her way through the door she was met with a short hallway and another rope ladder, this one ascending upwards till she climbed herself out of the corresponding vase on her nightstand at Hogwarts, a satisfied smile on her face.

Reaching under her bed she pulled out her suitcase. Packing it with clothes, galleons, and a case of memories Septima made her way back to her townhome in Whisper Alley before once more returning to Hogwarts.

* * *

Fresh snow dotted the banks of the River Lee and expanded outwards and up into the Shehy mountains.

It was unseasonably cold in Cork, even for February and Tonks found herself grateful for the fire and her glass of whisky.

"You're late." She began with a touch of irritation in her voice.

"Apologies." He said in slightly accented English. "I do not have much time."

The news was welcome to her ears, the less time she had to spend in the presence of the necromancer the better.

Necromancers made her uncomfortable. Their pale skin and obsessions with death, blood, and necrophilia had made the powerful magic something of a worldwide taboo. It was the necromancy, not the soul magic that had run the man across from her out of France. If it weren't for DuPont's perceived usefulness she would avoid him like the plague.

"Why am I here?" She began, ignoring his comment.

"Are we free to speak?"

She shot him an annoyed look. "Of course." She said dismissively.

He gave a resolute nod. "The Dark Lord has a training facility at an old castle in the hills above Denbigh out in Wales."

Tonks tried to hide her excitement at the bit of information. It had been months since either side had been able to strike a clean blow, and she was beginning to get stir crazy.

"How many Death Eaters?"

DuPont shrugged. "One hundred maybe, maybe more."

An attack on the camp would strike a major blow to the enemy.

"Who runs the camp? What of the protections?" The former Dark Arts Professor from Beauxbatons didn't answer immediately, staring off into the flames behind her for several long moments.

She didn't rush him, finding the restraint to allow him the necessary time, knowing he was betraying everything he stood for.

Sitting here patiently while the man worked up the nerve to betray those monsters. Her actions sickened her.

When he spoke his voice was eerily void of emotion.

"This settles my deal with Lord Potter." He stated calmly before she interjected. "Forewarning on an attack at Hogwarts gets you immunity. Lord Potter made that clear."

DuPont's eyes narrowed. "What if I can't get that information?"

"I cannot answer for him." She forced a touch of compassion into her voice. "The best you can hope for is that you continue to provide him with information and hope Harry is more generous than Voldemort. Provide him with as much information as you can and he may still give you your land."

He sighed. Marcel didn't have a choice and he knew it.

"Lestrange, Snape, and Dolohov run it."

Her hand rubbed her abdomen at the spot where her aunt's knife had nearly killed her, a large grin on her face.

"What is the makeup of the Death Eaters at this camp? How skilled are they?"

DuPont looked at his watch nervously.

"Bellatrix trains the upper echelon recruits privately. They all have battle experience and have been handpicked by either Voldemort or Bellatrix for more specialized training. Snape and Dolohov handle the rest, they're mid-level soldiers. They have shown some amount of aptitude in basic training and are being given a more advanced education."

"How many of each?"

DuPont shrugged. "I do not know. Bellatrix's group had twenty five last I saw, but Bellatrix has a tendency to kill students that fail to meet her standards."

"What about the protections?"

The necromancer picker up a satchel off the ground. "It's all in here." He said, shoving the bag into her hands. "I have to go."

Left alone Tonks ordered herself another whisky and an Irish stew before digging through the satchel.

She read for nearly an hour while she ate, stopping only to order another glass of whisky when an envelope caught her eye.

' _ **Lord Potter'**_

The handsome handwriting stole her attention as her fingers slid across the thick envelope.

"Shit." She said in surprise, dropping the envelope right as it gave her body a jolt.

Deciding to not test the protections on the envelope, Tonks put the letter back into the satchel and turned her attention to the dessert menu, sure that whatever DuPont had to tell Harry could wait.

* * *

" _Horcrux. That's it."_ DuPont's voice echoed in his mind as he closed the painting hiding Tom Riddle's old room behind him.

Hanging a left Harry made his way deeper into the quiet dungeons, through cobwebs and passed unused rooms until he came upon an unassuming suit of armor in a dark corner.

"Open." He hissed, the suit of armor sliding aside to reveal a tall archway leading into an off-to-the-side room deep within the chamber.

Walking through the archway Harry quickly passed through the small, empty room and was met with a fork in the path.

If he were to go to the left he would connect with the part of the chamber that contained a maze of enclaves and hideaways used for spying. Even after removing the traps he was still warry of the area.

Despite the deadly protections that particular corridor could prove to be particularly useful, connecting to all four common rooms and a good portion of the private quarters in the castle.

Between that and the path that nearly drown he and Daphne there wasn't a part of the chamber that hadn't tried to kill him in some spectacular fashion or another.

As useful as it was, the known parts of the chamber hadn't proved useful for his horcrux hunt.

Activating his map, he touched the runes embedded within the parchment and spelled it to float in front of him.

To the best of his increasing knowledge, a rightward turn was all that was left to explore. Harry sighed. If things held to form he would soon be fighting for his life.

He had been obsessively exploring the chamber of late, desperate to find anything that Voldemort might use as a horcrux, the knowledge that a single horcrux was all that stood between him and a mortal dark lord was maddening.

Sticking to the right Harry, ever vigilant, slowly began to descend, each new step creating the next portion of the map.

While he assumed he was heading deeper into the castle it was impossible to tell with magic. The chamber, he realized, was less predictable than the castle's staircases. A maze that he was beginning to think was designed to trap intruders.

The path he was on was wider than most while the cobblestone floor was littered with bones and other debris, providing him with a good hint as to what had used this part of the chamber the most recently.

The thought caused him to pause in debate; did he risk running into the basilisk? For all he knew basilisks were fickle creatures, a second encounter could have a vastly different outcome than the first.

Since their initial meeting Harry had gone out of his way to avoid the ancient creature to great success thus far, did he test his luck?

' _What if there's a horcrux ahead?'_

Unlike the other portions of the chamber the path he was on held no rooms or enclaves, there was no torchlight or any other amenities to be seen giving him the feeling that this part of the chamber was meant specifically for its protector.

After several minutes of walking, the path began to ascend and he was surrounded by damp earth. The ceiling above him was overrun with a thick bushel of roots while spiders and mice scurried about the mud floor.

He pushed onward till the natural light began to illuminate the tunnel from a large opening that had come into view straight ahead.

Harry smiled in excitement as he realized what he had stumbled upon.

He had assumed the snake must have a way into the forbidden forest to hunt, now it appeared that he had found it.

There were less trees than he had expected. That was the first thing he'd noticed as he exited the chamber into the brisk winter air.

He could see his breath take form in front of him as the sun glistened off the surrounding snow, illuminating the scant amount of trees in the area - this wasn't a part of the forest he was familiar with.

Snow crunched under his feet as he walked the perimeter attempting to determine the next steps.

"Pete!" A voice not-so-far-off in the distance called.

' _What the hell?'_ The forbidden forest wasn't this close to a populated area.

"Whatchu want?" A second voice - he assumed Pete - replied dully.

Harry cast a disillusionment charm over himself and walked towards the pair of voices.

' _What the hell?'_ He thought in confusion, his eyes resting on a dilapidated house he recognized as the Shrieking Shack a hundred meters ahead and through the trees.

Just past the old shack he could make out people milling about on the snow-covered street leading to a familiar bar off in the distance.

The chamber hadn't led him to the forbidden forest, but to Hogsmeade.

The thought made him shudder. For centuries a basilisk had been hunting the surrounding area and the townspeople appeared to be none-the-wiser.

Though that wasn't necessarily true, he thought, his mind drifting back to school-yard legends that were exchanged in the students lounge. For as long as anyone could remember there had been rumors about the odd witch or wizard disappearing in the small town, a basilisk would explain that.

Heading back to the opening Harry paused to cast some diagnostics on the well-hidden entrance.

His eyes widened as the opening began to glow, a familiar chill passing through him.

Voldemort had been here recently.

DuPont was telling him the truth, Voldemort was planning to attack Hogsmeade but he was going to use the attack as a diversion.

' _He's going after the horcrux.'_

The man had said the horcruxes made Voldemort unstable, while unification may provide stability for the dark lord.

He stood still in the woods for a minute in silence while he plotted his next move.

Further diagnostic charms ran the risk of alerting Voldemort.

Making a decision he made his way back through the thicket and into the earthy portion of the tunnel just inside the opening, continuing until his feet hit cobblestone.

Pausing, he squatted down and removing a knife from his satchel, he carefully carved a monitoring rune into the step before making the long journey back to the main atrium of the chamber where the snake had nearly killed him and Daphne a few days prior.

He wasn't there long when he felt the snake's presence creep up behind him.

"Young human." It greeted.

Harry looked passed the snake, desperate to avoid its deadly eyes.

"Your tunnel that leads to the woods near the village?"

The snake perked up at the mention of its exit.

"Voldemort has been there recently."

If a basilisk could nod its head, it did. "I shall keep watch."

"Thank you." He said genuinely.

He was about to leave when a thought entered his mind.

"Did Tom Riddle ever tell you about a hiding place? A special place at Hogwarts where he'd keep his valuable possessions?"

An inquisitive forked tongue brushed against his cheek.

"Young master used to gloat about his study."

He groaned. He had nearly forgotten about Tom Riddles old room. For the first time in months his mind turned back to the locked drawer on the desk, a victorious smile on his face. He knew exactly where the last horcrux was.

* * *

Hogwarts was perhaps the most overrated building in Europe. She thought in disdain, her foot tapping the floor impatiently in a dusty classroom littered with an array of broken desks and chairs.

Aesthetically pleasing, yes. But far too big to maintain. Most of the capacity had fallen into disuse, the magical population never quite reaching the lofty predictions made by Rowena Ravenclaw.

More than that the place was a deadly maze of secret rooms, basilisks, and traps. Durmstrang, ugly as it looked in pictures, at least appeared to be logically arranged. Hogwarts on the other hand, had been designed by four ego maniacs eager to show future generations how brilliant and creative they were as individuals.

They were a bunch of self-absorbed cunts, if you asked her.

She took another glance at her watch; her guests were late. Daphne didn't like late. A trait, she realized, she acquired from Harry.

They had been together so long that they picked up each other's traits.

The realization made her smile. Despite all she had been through in the past year Harry had been there for her. She wasn't sure he knew how much she appreciated that.

Fortunately she didn't have to wait much longer as her small group began to trickle in.

Daphne narrowed her eyes slightly, wiping any form of expression from her features. "You're late." She said dispassionately in what she hoped was an accurate impression of her boyfriend.

Her group of compatriots took an involuntary step back and she nearly laughed.

"Sorry." A plain looking girl with green eyes said nonchalantly, not looking the least bit sorry.

She reached into her purse, coming out with a small vial containing a clear liquid on the only unbroken desk in the room. "I didn't want to ruin this."

"You're sure it works?"

Maggie smirked. "This batch does."

Part of her wanted to be privy to the joke but pushed forward.

"Morningstar!" She barked at the seventh year quidditch player. "Is everything set?" The lanky boy gave her a wicked smile. "It is."

She _was_ privy to that joke – the older boy's ability to inspire confidence in others was why he was chosen for this particular task.

She glanced briefly at the unexpected third guest, their eyes meeting for a moment before hers darted towards the other two.

"Thank you both." She said sincerely. Loathe as she was to admit it, she couldn't do this alone and she didn't have the skills needed to inspire such loyalty in others.

She never failed to marvel at Astoria's ability to inspire loyalty, even from the afterlife. For a moment she wondered if anyone besides Harry would avenge her should she be killed.

They nodded and left without a word, leaving her alone with the strange fourth year.

"Hello Calypso." She said calmly, curious as to what she was doing in front of her.

' _Or how she found out about this meeting.'_

She had other uses for the slippery pureblood.

"Lady Greengrass." Rosier said politely.

Unlike the others Calypso wasn't particularly friendly with her sister, Daphne couldn't quite understand what the girl gained from their affiliation.

They sat quietly for several seconds, neither saying a thing. The silence was starting to become a little too awkward when the other girl broke it.

"Miles sure likes to brag when he drinks." She began, a small smile softening her normally cold features. "He even showed me his new tattoo."

"He's taken the mark?"

Calypso nodded. "He had some training over the holiday and thinks he's real powerful now. He was even telling me about how he was going to this advanced training camp up in central Wales."

Daphne tried to contain her excitement. "Did Bletchley say when he was going?" She shook her head but kept smiling. "He did not, but he claims Snape's involved."

Daphne smiled. She could deal with Snape. "Keep him drinking."

Calypso nodded sharply. "He needs more booze."

"That's fine." Daphne said dismissively. "I'll have you a fresh case by the weekend."

Calypso was half way to the door when Daphne called back out to her, unable to resist her own curiosity.

"Why are you helping me?"

The curly-haired brunette turned to face her.

"You and Astoria weren't friends."

Calypso looked at her thoughtfully as she composed herself.

"After the first war my family was all but wiped out. Whether by the Ministry, the Order of the Phoenix, or the Dark Lord. My parents had been exiled to Greece when I was born, shortly after the bounty hunters caught my father."

If Rosier thought telling her a story about how her entire family supported Voldemort during the first war was going to win her trust she wasn't as smart as she looked.

"It's just me and my mom now." She started, closing the gap between them. "People have forgotten the name Rosier. They've forgotten our wealth, they've forgotten our seat on the wizengamot, and they've forgotten we're a member of the sacred twenty eight."

Calypso gave her a vicious smile. "They've forgotten how much power we wield." She stated resolutely, the determination evident in her voice.

"If you win this war, you and Harry Potter will shape our society for the next century. History will tell your story, I want to make it so they can't tell your story without mentioning my family."

* * *

It felt as though it had been ages since he'd been in Riddle's old room. He thought to himself as he stood at the entrance way of the pristine office.

It occurred to him in that moment that the space looked as though someone who had seen some important business executive's office on the muggle telly had designed it.

For the first time he thought of the origins of the small office.

Had it always been an office? He and Daphne had transformed an unused classroom into something far more impressive beginning in their third year. His mind drifted back to the secret passageway Riddle had created near the greenhouses, it's possible Riddle had created the room himself.

If Riddle hadn't been the rooms architect he wondered who was. If Riddle found it how did he find it? Had it always been protected by a parselmouth password? He had been able to change the password to the room so maybe Tom Riddle had as well, that possibility only served to complicate things further.

When did Tom Riddle start to design the interior? He assumed he must have started designing the room immediately after finding or creating it. Based on the furnishings Harry figured Riddle must have been pretty young.

His mind harkened back to how the study at Grimmauld place looked prior to he and Sirius remodeled. The large mahogany desk with several large bookshelves behind it, comfortable chairs and couches, and even an old wireless found in Riddle's space were absent in Lord Black's previous study, all showed a distinct muggle influence that prior to Voldemort traditional purebloods found foreign.

Making his way to the spotless desk he paused, his eyes transfixed on the second drawer from the bottom, right of center. He stared at it motionlessly for nearly a minute. The drawer had caused him so much pain in years past, now he was fairly certain he knew why.

Blank-faced he jabbed his wand forward then sliced downwards.

The drawer emitted a translucent glow letting Harry know it was safe to proceed. He felt a nervous anxiety as he prepared for the next part.

In his third year he had believed that the drawer had been protected by 'Gravi Capitis Dolore,' a small area protection ward ideally used on a doorway or small to moderately sized object due to its light pink blow and violent violet tendrils.

The state he had been left in after his first attempt left Daphne, who had snuck in when he had forgot to shut the door, in a panic.

He wondered if that counted as their first date. He smiled. The idea of a near death experience being their first date really did set the stage for what was to come.

By the time he had realized it was a camouflage ward that protected the drawer he had other pressing matters and had pushed it aside.

Different from the deadly traps set in the chamber, a camouflage ward on its own was relatively harmless but easy to modify and combine with other structures, making it an ideal choice for a normal ambitious teenager, yet unusual for someone as capable as Tom Riddle.

He cast several diagnostic charms, careful as to not disturb any of the potential modifications – he had already been struck by the ingrained punishment once, he didn't wish to do so again.

The origin of the punishment combination is where he hoped to begin dismantling the ward and he found it cleverly hidden by a subtle concealment charm on the corner of the desk.

The nasty looking pain ward protruded mustard yellow tendrils that shot angrily downwards towards its target.

Pain wards were simple, yet effective. The more power you poured into the ward, the more pain befalls the victim. Their weakness lay in the one-dimensional nature of the ward. Focus on its function left the ward vulnerable if you knew where to look.

It took him less than a minute to locate the slightly lighter shade of yellow within the ward, then another minute to disable it, leaving him with only the camouflage and overall structure to deal with.

Like the name suggests, the camouflage ward was well hidden within of the front desk itself, taking longer than anticipated for him to find and disperse of the remaining protections on the drawer.

With the slightest bit of trepidation Harry griped the cold metal drawer handle and was relieved when his periphery didn't fill with a blinding pain.

A smile on his face he opened the drawer and was slightly disappointed to find a plain black book.

Nagini, Ravenclaw's diadem, Hufflepuff's cup – Voldemort had always chosen the grandiose over the mundane.

Almost instinctively Harry grabbed the book and set it on the table before flipping through it aimlessly, getting more and more frustrated with each page.

Even as a first year he could feel the allure of Ravenclaw's diadem as Quirrell pushed passed him on the seventh floor corridor. Harry could remember his desire to snatch the diadem from his defense professor's head.

Yet here he felt nothing.

Without giving it any thought he grabbed a quill and some ink from his satchel as he continued to browse the empty book impatiently, looking for any sign of significance.

He paused, eyeing the thing with a little more focus. It wasn't a book at all. He thought, following the pull on his subconscious directing him towards the answer.

It was a diary. A simple, blank, diary.

H wondered why a blank diary was under such complex protections. Sentimental value maybe?

Impulsively he dipped his quill in its ink and began writing.

" _Hello."_ He wrote not knowing what to expect and feeling slightly ridiculous at his behavior.

A mesmerizing ellipsis flickered across the blank, worn page underneath his answer, leaving him transfixed, and slightly disappointed when he received an unexpected response some time later.

" _ **Hello."**_ The journal responded. _**"My name's Tom, what's your name?"**_

A broad smile came across his face, the name triggering no response in his mind.

Time seemed to slow down as he debated what exactly to divulge to the mysterious stranger.

" _My name is Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you Tom."_ He began, starting small.

" _ **You as well, Harry Potter."**_ The diary responded pleasantly. _**"Would you remind me what year it is?"**_

He paused for a moment to divert his eyes upwards towards the gaggle of third years blocking the entrance to the Slytherin common room, holding him up.

His mind drifted off again as he thought about his response.

"Open!" He hissed towards the suit of armor before finally remembering to answer his new friend.

" _ **1996."**_

He continued his way down the spiral staircase, his eyes transfixed on the flickering ellipsis underneath his penmanship, drawing him in once more.

He jolted forward breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his cheeks.

' _What the hell?'_ He thought in fear, confused as to where he was, his eyes taking longer than usual to adjust to darkness.

Looking around he saw the familiar half-sunk atrium of the chamber of secrets surrounding him, an unfamiliar black diary floating at his feet.

' _What's going on?'_

"Young one." A familiar hiss called out, the basilisk being acting as a strangely comforting sight amidst all the confusion.

"What happened?" He hissed back.

"You were hissing at that." The ancient snake replied, leaving Harry with the impression that it was gesturing towards the black book floating before him. "You were calling it by young master's name."

Then it all came back to him like a tidal wave: thinking he knew where Voldemort's final horcrux was, the ward on the drawer, the strange voice in his head, blacking out and coming to in a strange place.

The realization left few possibilities, one terrifying possibility standing out above the rest.

Voldemort had possessed him.

* * *

He had made sure to arrive early.

Draco couldn't be certain that Morningstar had known the depths of Greengrass's little plot. The boy had only claimed to know enough to make him fear for his life.

He had taken the tattered chair with his back facing the plain walls, the sound of cutlery being thrown about as elves in pressed cloth robes barked orders at elves in slightly tattered robes who seemed to obey without question, some of whom were even singing softly in solidarity.

He found the knowledge that even the help had a social hierarchy oddly comforting as his ostensible peer strutted towards the simple table.

Draco rose to his feet, a well-practiced smile on his face. "Lady Greengrass." He said respectfully, his head bowing appropriately while his lips stopped just short of brushing her knuckles.

"Scion Malfoy." She said pleasantly, her attempt at a relaxed look looking more foreign on her features than Stori's.

He squashed those thoughts, keeping his focus instead on the woman in front of him.

She had survived an encounter with his aunt. He knew it. The Death Eaters knew it. The Dark Lord knew it. Even if the press didn't. It was an impressive feat, one that had left people interested.

The mystery was _**why**_ was she kept alive? Vendetta aside, the Greengrass household was of little consequence to the Dark Lord, committing resources to a family hell bent on opposing him was a waste.

The only logical reason was that Greengrass had made an impression on his sadistic aunt.

It wasn't worth speculating, if Bellatrix Lestrange had had a reason for not killing Daphne Greengrass she hadn't felt the need to share. To Draco that thought was equally disturbing.

"Thank you for meeting me, Lady Greengrass."

"You should be thanking Harry." She started bluntly as her intense green eyes surveyed the room. "He's the one who forced me to take this meeting."

He silently agreed as a kettle and some biscuits appeared before them.

Greengrass gave the room another once-over before finally sitting down.

Joining her back at the table Draco didn't hesitate, reaching for the kettle he poured himself a small glass before taking a bite of a still warm biscuit.

Greengrass seemed to relax as he served himself before helping herself to a glass herself.

As a child he would often be forced to stay with his aunt Bellatrix at her chateau in Sofia while his parents traveled the continent. While they were away, his aunt would take the opportunity to instill as many lessons as possible upon her only nephew.

Survival, manipulation, and the mind arts seemed to be aunt Bellatrix's specialty, traits he had learned to both harness and recognize in others.

After a moment's hesitation Greengrass appeared to take a sip of her own tea, though the lack of movement in her throat betrayed her.

Maybe if Astoria had had a violent psychopath as an aunt she would still be alive?

He'd spent months pondering that thought. Could he have done something? He wished he could have, he desperately wanted to know who she would have become.

He mustn't let Daphne get to her wand before him. Draco never stood a chance against a determined Daphne Greengrass, he knew that.

Draco fingered his own wand attached to his wrist beneath his robe, subtly bringing it forward and directing it at her from under the table.

"I'm not going to be drinking your tea, Daphne." He was stern but calm. He must strike a delicate balance. If Snape could play both sides of this war so could he.

Greengrass's biggest weakness was her sense of superiority. Talented though she may be, she was blinded by her own arrogance.

"I'm here to talk to you, not fall victim to your little vendetta."

Her pretty eyes narrowed and the kitchen seemed to go silent.

"Fine." She said devoid of emotion, giving up the charade as she threw her tea glass to the ground, sending pieces of porcelain everywhere as house elves appeared like cockroaches to clean up the mess. "What did you want to talk about then?" She said tossing her wand on the table, clearly more curious than intimidated.

He followed suit a second later, placing both of his hands, palms flat on the table in front of them.

"Despite what you may believe, I really did care for your sister."

To her credit and his surprise Daphne didn't react at first, taking the second to mimic his own actions. "Your father told you to gather information on my family for Voldemort." She stated bluntly.

He resisted the urge to flinch at the dark lord's name. "He did." Draco confirmed. "Father wanted me to gather information on you, your family, and Lord Potter both to assess your family as a potential supporter and as a way to keep an eye on Potter. It is no different than you using your friend to get close to the heir of two houses."

Her hand twitched towards her wand and although he knew he was teetering on the edge of destruction he put a hand up to cut off her response. "Like you – like _**most**_ purebloods I followed my family's wishes before growing to care for that person." He stated calmly, staring directly into her eyes he continued. "I stopped reporting to him before the Yule Ball, he accepted my wishes. Despite the initial circumstances, Astoria meant the world to me." He said softly, hoping his voice contained sincerity.

"My father is many things." Draco started. "But he wouldn't murder her in cold-blood. Even if you think he is a monster you have to understand that he wouldn't do that to _**me.**_ "

Daphne sat calmly opposite him neither saying nor doing anything.

"Mipsy!" She said calmly. "Bring me a bottle of firewhiskey."

He exhaled, feeling himself relax for the first time as the elf returned with a new bottle and two glasses.

They watched silently as the wrinkly creature cracked the seal before pouring them both a finger or two of the potent amber liquid.

Encouraged by her silence he raised his glass. "For Astoria." He said somberly, eliciting a smile from Daphne. "For Astoria." She repeated quietly, raising the glass to her lips.

He mimicked her actions, feeling the burn of the amber liquid touch the back of his throat before an overwhelming sour taste erupted in his throat causing him to wince at the unpleasantness before it was replaced with an excruciating pain as he began to cough violently.

Across from him Daphne was no longer holding her glass and wore an amused smile on her beautiful face.

Draco made to talk again but found himself coughing once more, only this time Daphne had pushed herself away from the table and was watching his death with a look of glee on her face.

The sight caused his eyes to widen in horror as he became aware of the coppery taste of blood that was overflowing from his mouth.

Daphne was laughing cruelly as he clawed at his neck, ripping away skin in desperation as he slowly suffocated.

"You're lucky, Draco." Daphne's faint voice said as she watched him struggle to remain consciousness in a form of demented amusement. "I believe you."

She placed a small vial on the table in front of him before abruptly grabbing it off the table and standing up.

"In exchange for your life." She said, grabbing a handful of his hair and throwing his head back in disregard. "You're going to tell me everything you know."

Out of the corner of his eye Draco saw a quick flick and momentarily he could breath. Seizing the opportunity he downed the clear liquid as it was poured down his throat, his senses overcome by a light tingling followed by a brief bout of pain.

"That's what she felt in the moments before she died." Daphne said cruelly, his wand still directed between his eyes.

"You claim it wasn't your father." She said as he closed the gap between them, pressing him against the dirty kitchen wall. "Who killed Astoria? Who killed my family?"

There were unshed tears in her eyes but her wand didn't waver.

He took a deep breath knowing the tough sell he had ahead of him.

"The same woman who killed Flitwick, McGonagall, Goldstein, and your friend Lily." He said trembling and his voice hoarse, hoping to convey the sincerity of his words.

"Septima Vector."

She stared at him angrily for several long moments, her wand still trained on him.

"I don't believe you." Her voice said, though her eyes told him differently – occlumency took a strength he didn't currently have, she had full access to his mind.

He shrugged. He didn't have enough tangible proof to convince her, only coincidences.

"She was orphaned at thirteen and taken in by her mother's employer, the Yaxley's, who have supported Voldemort since he was in Hogwarts." He began with more confidence than he felt. He had just accused one of Greengrass's closest confidants of working with Voldemort.

"After receiving her mastery she took over as professor of ancient runes and warding, where her record has been exemplary."

Daphne wore an impatient look and he knew he had to get to his point. "Two years before Flitwicks death she was promoted to Associate Head of House with the promise that he was only two years from retirement. Septima Vector was delighted, if all went to plan she would be the youngest Head of House at Hogwarts since Helga Hufflepuff."

"She's ambitious, that's your proof?" Daphne said disdainfully, but Draco pushed forward.

"Three weeks before he was poisoned in the Three Broomsticks he signed an extension with Hogwarts. She benefitted the most from his death."

She looked skeptical but he continued.

"That was around the same time she got engaged to Lord Black."

He took her silence as encouragement. "Black saw something he shouldn't have and Vector was scared the obviation wouldn't hold." He said softly. "It's the same reason Astoria was killed."

A few tears fell down her face but Daphne otherwise remained eerily composed. "You're lying." She accused.

Draco held her gaze. "No. I'm not. And you know it."

They remained silent for some time staring at each other, Draco not daring to look away.

More tears fell and she lowered her wand. "No, you're not." He felt a pressure relieve itself.

"You're going to help me kill her."

* * *

His eyes shifted back and forth between the entrance and the Slytherin table, eager to find Daphne, though his hopes were beginning to dim.

Neither she nor Malfoy had shown up for dinner and he was beginning to wonder if it had been a mistake to let her go to that meeting without someone to look out for Malfoy.

More than that he had to tell her the exciting developments!

After his little incident with Voldemort's final horcrux he had conjured a marble box and placed it inside before putting it safely in his trunk in Ravenclaw tower. If Voldemort really was planning on infiltrating the castle it wouldn't be wise to leave it lying about.

He had considered destroying it outright, but without Daphne there to stand watch, and having just been possessed, he had felt that waiting a day or two would serve him well.

" _We don't even know if Voldemort can tell when a horcrux has been destroyed."_

His attention back on the great hall, he noticed Tonks's barn owl amongst the two owls patiently waiting for him at the table.

He assumed Tonks's owl contained her summary of her meeting with the necromancer and set it aside in favor of Fleur's unexpected letter and small box.

Intrigued by the box he set the letter aside and opened the lid, a puzzled look settling on his face.

Why would Fleur send him a fly?

* * *

The smell of spiced tobacco was overwhelmed by cheap perfume as the raucous crowd at Glasgow's finest pub sang behind her in merriment while she sipped a glass of a cheap house red while waiting for Septima to arrive.

An amused voice from behind her cut through the off-pitch singing midway through her glass.

"My sweet flower." Septima's arrival seemed to make the whole thing real and for the slightest of moments she wondered if she was doing the right thing. "What are you doing down here with these cretins? Put that shit down and follow me." The spy stated as she turned on her heel, ending all debate on the matter.

Fleur stared at the mashed grapes disdainfully before following her target through the crowd towards the back right corner of the room where an unassuming coat rack sat undisturbed.

The veela watched in amusement as Vector passed through the wall, the surrounding patrons seemingly having not noticed the bit of magic.

' _Of course.'_ She said passing through the illusion and into a dimly lit, simply decorated bar, the sound of Nat King Cole's _'_ _ **When I fall in Love'**_ softly playing in the background.

Septima took her hand, guiding Fleur towards an easy-to-miss, cozy booth in the far corner.

"An old classmate of mine founded this pub a decade ago." She started airily. "Since then it's become a staple amongst the Hogwarts staff." She completed with a wide, welcoming gesture as if presenting the comfortable spot as a national treasure of some sort.

Fleur smiled and nodded, hardly paying attention as she slipped herself a calming draught while Septima led the way.

She wondered how Septima Vector could do it; the constant lies, the subterfuge. She had spent days planning for this one meeting and could barely make do without several draughts a day for her anxiety.

"It's nice." She said honestly. If she for whatever reason found herself back in Glasgow she would make sure to stop by. "Do you mind?" She said pointing towards the wine list as they sat down.

"Of course." Septima said with an attractive smile. "You're the expert, after all."

She tapped her fingers anxiously on the dark wooden table as she browsed the list looking for a bottle but more importantly waiting for the draught to kick in.

Across from her Septima wore her shoulder length hair loosely, her hazel orbs eyeing her in silent amusement as the waiter approached.

Wait staff. She hadn't counted on that.

Seeming to read her mind the spy smiled. "Archie McDonald, the founder of this establishment, is a wealthy Muggleborn. He brought the novel idea of servants with him from the muggle world."

She offered the other woman a brilliant smile, she would worry about the staff later, it was no reason to deviate.

Seeing this meeting as good a reason as any to indulge, Fleur smiled at the waiter. "We'll take a bottle of the '92 Screaming Eagle, please."

Her date laughed prettily. "Fleur Delacour turning to Napa Valley?" She said in faux surprise. "Alert the press!"

Septima's response elicited a genuine smile and a burst of laughter, for a moment she was enjoying wine with a friend, not playing cat and mouse with a spy.

Vector smirked at her. "It's good to see you." She said warmly, her entire demeanor changing in a moment. "You're a welcome sight after such a long week."

She used to admire Septima Vector's ability to seemingly change personalities on a dime. Now she found it significantly more alarming.

Fleur returned the older woman's smile as the calming draught kicked in, leaving her slightly giddy before settling in nicely.

She smiled, making sure to not smile too widely or risk alerting her target that something was amiss. "What went wrong?"

Her response was dutiful and expected intertwined with the right amount of concern. This was natural.

The spy gave her an amused look nearly drawing her ire – Septima had gave her that look before once when she thought she was being clever around the older woman's birthday – but contained herself, there was no need to go off script.

"Nothing in particular." Septima replied as she reached across the pristine wood table, resting the bottom of her right palm on top of Fleur's left. "The nature of the job leads to frustration and anxiety."

Fleur wondered what job Septima was talking about, or if she was even able to differentiate between the two anymore.

The woman she had heard on her fly was cold, conniving, and callous while the woman in front of her was anything but. She felt so ignorant, so stupid, so _used._ How could it take her so long to see what was so obvious? How could everyone have missed it for so long?

It would be over soon. She had taken steps to ensure that.

Fleur hoped that that Skeeter woman was smart enough to figure out the fly on her own, she didn't worry so much about Harry or their Minister of Magic.

The handsome young waiter returned with a simple green bottle enclosed with a rich red wrapper and adorned with a simple black and white logo of an eagle circling its prey.

She was thankful for the calming draught as the waiter poured the rich, red cabernet into a pair of crystal glasses.

All the while her target treated her with the type of amused look normally reserved for school children.

' _Is that how she sees me? As a child?'_

"What's kept you busy this week?" She asked inquisitively, brushing off her dismay and waiting for the opportune moment.

She took a moment to admire the cabernet's fruity aroma before taking a delicate sip, savoring the bold flavor and strong structure of the coveted new label.

"Les Français et leur vin." Her date chuckled causing Fleur to blush slightly.

"This week it would be the government interfering in the affairs at Hogwarts." She said disdainfully. "Hogwarts has been sovereign for a thousand years, we have the resources to hire our own private security, yet now I have to allow corrupt auror's into the castle?"

Fleur reduced the desire to roll her eyes at the pronouncement. The only reason the spy was ranting was because the presence of auror's made it harder for Septima to operate.

"Harry allowed that to happen?" A flicker of _something_ passed over Septima's features before she quickly composed herself.

"The Potter's, for all their historical clout, do not hold a seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors."

There was a tinge of amusement in Vector's voice and Fleur silently marveled at the spy's ability to hide her true self.

"The Black's though, do they not have a vote?" Fleur was genuinely curious, she knew for certain that the Greengrass family held a seat, it was probably the only historically significant aspect of the family.

"They do." Septima said with so much sorrow Fleur found herself briefly under the older woman's spell.

' _This woman used Sirius to get access to Harry Potter and the Black fortune.'_ She reminded herself. _'When she felt threatened, she had him killed.'_

"Unfortunately it wasn't enough." She said with a sigh. "He lost by one vote."

Bellatrix's spy turned away briefly providing her with a window of opportunity. Her heart beating out of her chest, Fleur reached into her robe and grabbed a small vial of amber liquid.

Taking a millisecond to ensure her window was still open; Fleur smiled nervously, emptying the contents of the vial into her own glass of cabernet.

"How is Harry?" She asked inquisitively, knowing just the right buttons to push.

The devious woman's attention back on her, Septima eyed her for a long moment before taking another sip of wine.

"He's doing well." She started with a smile, leaving Fleur to wonder if Septima was being honest or putting on a show. It was nearly impossible to tell.

"I signed his waiver last week, he will be graduating in May." Septima's proud look didn't help to answer her question, though she supposed if Septima cared about anyone it was Harry. The way she lit up while talking about him, the proud look on her face with every minor accomplishment.

Fleur couldn't tell if the older woman wanted to follow him towards more power or sleep with him.

' _Probably a bit of both.'_

If that was the case Fleur found it hard to understand her actions; killing his mentor, his godfather, McGonagall and his girlfriend's family.

What did Vector gain from their deaths?

' _Power.'_ The answer hit her like an anvil the second she asked it. Septima Vector had turned their deaths into opportunities for career advancement.

"Has he made plans for what's next?" She asked with genuine curiosity having no idea what protégé's did after graduation.

"He will study under me for his ancient runes mastery and Professor Babbling for his arithmancy mastery. Independently he will complete mastery's in the dark arts, charms, and transfiguration. I will train him in his warding mastery once he has met the prerequisites. After all of that Harry has expressed interest in becoming a cursebreaker."

Fleur smiled but found herself slightly disappointed – cursebreaking was incredibly difficult but a part of her expected more, though what 'more' was she did not know. "If anyone can do it Harry can." She responded fondly.

The spy agreed and took another sip of her wine.

Septima let out a slight moan as she shut her eyes, savoring the taste of the distinct cabernet.

Fleur saw her chance and quickly switched out her own wine with Septima's right as the older woman was opening her eyes.

"I really needed this, Fleur." Septima said sincerely. "It's been way too long."

A shattered plate drew her attention away from Septima and thankfully prevented her from answering right away, allowing her a moment to compose herself.

Turning her attention back to the woman in front of her she took a calming breath and raised her glass, Septima following suit.

"A toast." She said, hoping her voice wouldn't tremble. "To us."

Septima continued to wear that amused look on her face but clinked her glass nonetheless, joining her in taking a sip of the bold wine.

She smiled into her glass as the wine hit the back of her throat before turning slightly bitter, causing her to choke and cough heavily.

Across from her Septima's wand was in her hand and the area was silenced, an amused look plastered on her features.

A pool of blood began to form in the back of her throat as Septima leaned in close, her elbows out in front of her and her fingers intertwined the spy rested her chin on the bridge created by her fingers.

This time when Fleur coughed she covered Septima in blood.

"My little flower." She said softly as the crimson liquid began to flow from her mouth and ears. Soon the poison would cause her eyes to bleed before the organs in her body would rapidly fail. Already she felt the blood gathering in her eye sockets leaving her desperate not to blink.

All the while Septima watched as she coughed, waiting for her to die violently at the table.

Fleur was d –

"ead?" Septima said interrupting her thoughts as she vanished the blood casually and took a sip directly from the bottle.

"You're not that good at occlumency, Fleur." She said tauntingly, taking another swig of wine.

"It didn't have to end this way."

She coughed again, blood flowing from her eyes, ears, nose and mouth before looking the spy directly in her hazel eyes, a blood stained smile on her lips as Fleur focused on the letters she had sent that morning.

Fleur fought to remain conscious, desperate to see the spy's reaction to her pyrrhic victory to no avail as she slipped on to the next great adventure.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

He shut the door to his and Daphne's private room quietly, the peculiar little fly stationary in one hand while he held a thick dossier and a letter with his name on it forwarded to him by Tonks in the other.

He knew what should take priority. DuPont and the war were both vastly more important than his friend in France.

' _For who?'_ His subconscious rang in causing him pause. For society. For Daphne. For Tonks. For Sirius?

He snorted. His godfather would probably mock him mercilessly for not paying more attention to Fleur. He sure gave him shit for ignoring Gabrielle. " _ **You could of had both!"**_ I imagined Sirius crying in exasperation.

He recalled a drunken Sirius giving any equally drunken Remus romantic advice a few yule's back. " _ **There's only one thing better than sister's, Moony, that's veela!"**_ He pictured Sirius applying that logic to this situation. " _ **She's a veela Harry! You can't pass that up… again… Merlin kid you could have had veela sisters!"**_ Sirius's voice, full of laughter and a bit of envy, rang in his mind, causing him to snort in laughter.

" _What about Daphne?"_ He would reply.

At this point his godfather would roll his eyes. " _ **You're fifteen, Harry! Live a little!"**_

He chuckled to himself for a moment, setting aside DuPont's dossier in favor of something lighter.

In Daphne's mystery novels spies would engrave flies with recording runes to listen in on their enemies. He chuckled lightly once more. "I wonder who she's been listening in on."

Harry flicked his wand, enlarging the fly to the size of a quaffle to get a better look at it, noticing a small rune well-hidden on the inside of the fly's back-right leg.

The placement of the rune made him pause and he felt his demeanor change instinctively, a hundred scenarios dancing in his head, his gut telling him something was wrong. Who was she hiding this rune from?

He took a moment to compose himself, then activated the fly.

Its small mouth opened slightly, emitting the sound of two very familiar voices.

" _Septima." The first voice said evenly. "Bellatrix..." The second voice replied._

He replayed that opening exchange four times before a combination of shock and disbelief had him retching on the floor in disgust. He recognized both those voices. Why was Septima meeting with Bellatrix Lestrange?

He avoided the obvious answer like the plague, refusing to entertain the idea till Sirius's voice once again filled his subconscious.

" _Then there's the kingmakers, Harry."_ Sirius had said shortly after being attacked by Dolohov. " _They're the dangerous ones. They have real influence, both in society and with Voldemort. They're the spies you never see. Kingmakers bring down empires. Kingmakers win wars."_

He felt numb. Is that what Septima Vector was? The kind woman who was always there for him, the brilliant teacher who pushed him to his limits. His mentor. His friend.

A shiver ran down his spine even as a pit of rage threatened to erupt from within him. The ambitious, ruthless, brilliant orphan halfblood. She had gone to live with Lady Yaxley after her parents were murdered during the first war, hadn't she?

Her background would have rung true with Bellatrix and her master. She would have been the perfect choice. Tepidly he restarted the recording once more, this time pressing passed the introduction.

" _This isn't like Goldstein." Septima started. "The Headmistress of Hogwarts must remain at Hogwarts."_

His first year rival had been found dead right before the holiday. Professor Avery had been arrested for the crime before killing himself in custody. Avery is an old family. A member of the 'Sacred 28'. His actions seem so uncharacteristic of his station, in hindsight.

Only here was Septima Vector, Headmistress of Hogwarts, his godfather's would-be widow, the former head of Ravenclaw openly admitting to being involved in the boy's murder. ' _Which means she killed Avery.'_ Or had him killed, more likely.

A series of events - her promotions after the deaths of Flitwick and McGonagall, Sirius working on recovering a memory before his death, Sirius's death bringing him and Septima closer - all seemed suspicious after-the-fact. All are things he should have caught.

' _That's where she became suspicious.'_ He surmised, his mind turning back to a conversation the pair had had in the library a lifetime ago. He had on a whim confided in Fleur, a relative stranger, Gabrielle's older sister, the champion of Beauxbatons, not a friend. For some reason he had told her that Sirius had been obliviated. He never expected this.

' _What were we talking about?'_ A plethora of memories coursed through him as he brought himself back to that day in the grand library of Hogwarts.

Using occlumency to help recall the details, his eyes shot up in surprise. The mind healers had identified a window in which the obliviation occurred. He had told her that. The London Invitational fell in that window. He had been distracted that day with trying to impress Daphne and Alfred.

It all made sense. More than that though, it was all so obvious. How could he not have seen it sooner? **Why** wasn't he able to? Was his love for the older woman that strong? Is that why her betrayal hurt so badly?

The door to his abode opened and his tears stopped - Septima had helped him and Daphne create this room. His mind raced once more; Septima had done far more than that.

She had helped him create unique ward sets, the basis for his mastery in the subject.

It was because of her that he had asked Daphne out.

She had helped him protect Grimmauld Place in the wake of Sirius's murder.

' _She knows_ _ **everything.**_ _About me. Both personal and in regards to my abilities.'_ Which meant Voldemort knew everything about him. He had probably seen memories of him. She knew so much.

He felt tears begin to well in his eyes once more, threatening to overflow when a bright orange spell came out of nowhere forcing him to hastily dive to the left.

Flicking his wand into his hand as he hit the ground, Harry returned fire with a handful of bludgeoners of his own, hoping to buy himself a moment to assess the situation.

His opponent darted out of the path of the spells with ease, the shadow of a lithe female body turning to the side gracefully about to return fire when he recognized her and threw up his hands in surrender.

"DAPHNE!" He yelled, disrupting her counter.

She lowered her wand tepidly. "Harry?"

He was about to return when she silenced him and began to run several diagnostics on the room.

Both their eyes widened when the security runes began to shift between magnificent arrays of color. They'd been lax in their security and the traitor had taken advantage. She had heard every conversation they had ever had in this room. She had seen every experiment, every private moment.

They worked silently for several minutes disabling intrusions before Daphne broke spoke.

"Malfoy says it's Septima!" She began wildly, an animalistic growl in her exhausted voice, a fierce look in her tired eyes. "And I know you're close with her but I used legilimency on him and he's telling the truth… at least as he believes it."

In any other situation he'd rub her face in it. He had told her she needed to sit down with Draco and she had resisted for months. Rubbing her face in it with a grin and a mocking laugh would be a normal response under any other circumstance, but not now.

He tapped Fleur's fly by way of response.

Thirty seconds later she was shaking with rage while hot tears ran down her face, further still down to her thin neck and exposed collarbone. Not knowing what to do, he walked over and gave her an awkward hug. He wasn't good at providing emotional support, but he would for her.

Daphne melted into his shoulder. "She killed my family." She said quietly. "I'm going to kill her." Harry nodded. He wanted her for himself but understood. She took Flitwick and Sirius from him; Daphne lost her family. Their claims weren't equal.

He held her quietly for several minutes before he summoned the marauders map in search of the bitch. Daphne let go of him to join him in his search, her attitude shifting in an instant. She could grieve later.

Two pairs of green eyes swept over the magnificent map in search of their prey."She's not here." He said bitterly. They fell into another brief silence. "What's that?" Daphne asked, pointing to the large folder on his desk. In all the emotion over that woman he had forgotten about Tonks's letter and DuPont's dossier.

"What I had decided was the heavier bit of information." He laughed humorlessly. "Tonks sent a letter to go with a package from DuPont."She passed both over to Harry for him to tear into eagerly.

A savage smile passed over his face. "Tonks was warning us about Septima." He said with a cruel, bitter laugh. Apparently DuPont and the rest of Voldemort's leadership just learned about her." He said dismissively, eager to report the interesting part. "He also provided us with the ward scheme for a Death Eater stronghold." He said excitedly. "An old castle in a valley located in central Wales, a place called Denbigh."

Recognition lit up in Daphne's eyes. "Rosier told me about that camp before my meeting with Draco." She said. "It's run by Snape, Dolohov, and Lestrange." He replied.

A plan began to form in Harry's mind as he smiled in grim excitement at Daphne. One way or the other, the end was near. "I have the final horcrux."

* * *

They scattered to the wind as the pair, sporting near identical looks of grim determination wordlessly exited the moving staircase into the stairwell. Without thought Harry pulled the sword on a suit of armor from its sheath. The armor jumped aside to reveal a large passage that would lead them to just outside the Ravenclaw common room.

As they walked they could hear voices echo off the cold stone stairwell.

Daphne flicked her wrist, a soft buzz encompassing their general vicinity as they continued shoulder to shoulder, forcing those they came across to move or risk being run over. "It was in the Chamber of Secrets then?" She said smugly before quickly adding. "Then why is it in Ravenclaw Tower?"

He didn't break pace as they stepped out of the passage and hung a sharp left.

"The only thing I found in the chamber was an exit that leads to the woods outside Hogsmeade." Harry said.

Coming to a stop he spun around and looked at her. "It's a hunting tunnel for the Basilisk, but Voldemort's magical signature was all over it." It was a credit to her spirit that she didn't react. "I think Voldemort plans to use Hogsmeade as a distraction to get the Horcrux."

She nodded resolutely. "Which is why we're going to destroy it."

"Exactly." He said, clearly not taking the hint.

"Why haven't you destroyed it?" She followed up in exasperation.

"Because it possessed me and I wanted you around when I did it, just in case."

She stared at him, lips puckered, mouth hanging slightly open and wide eyed. She looked like a fish.

"I found it in Riddle's room." He pushed on. They could worry about the possession later.

"The drawer?"

He nodded his head as the pair stepped into the stairwell leading to Ravenclaw's two-tiered common room.

Daphne followed him up, attracting several stares from his housemates but nothing further as they headed towards his room. They'd think they were off for a quick shag. Brazen, but not unheard of, they'd be given their privacy.

Throwing back the curtains on his large four poster bed, Harry removed a disillusionment charm to reveal his well-maintained four compartment trunk. Slicing his thumb and pressing it to a latch, the smallest compartment opened slowly to reveal a small marble box that had been shrunk to the size of a playing card.

Silently they disillusioned themselves before making their way to the female lavatory where Harry hissed at the sink furthest from the door, causing it to slowly dismantle itself, revealing a latter descending five hundred meters down into the bowels of Hogwarts.

They descended in silence as the threat of the unknown ran through him.

He had no idea what would happen when they destroyed the last horcrux. Would Voldemort be alerted somehow? Is it something you can sense? DuPont did not know so he was left with faith.

Faith. An annoying thing. It gave him anxiety.

The chamber was quiet except for the sound of water dripping from the pipes, forming pools of otherwise still water beneath their feet. "What should we do?" Daphne asked with a bit of nerve – his statement about possession no-doubt running through her mind. He smiled with more confidence than he felt. He enlarged the marble box to its original size and removed the lid. Harry felt a pull to the worn black leather cover and yellowing parchment staring back at him.

The book was so plain, so worn, so innocent looking; yet it was so enchanting all the same. It was nearly impossible to fathom the evil it contained. The thought of what the horcrux was capable of made him quiver in unease.

Yet the magnificence of the magic, the arrogance of the attempt, and the brilliance of the success was unquestionable. He wondered what that tiny bit of soul in the book was truly capable of.

A squeeze on his hand and Daphne's soft voice brought him back to reality.

"Harry." Her voice said with an uncharacteristic amount of worry. "You've been staring at that book for over a minute." The worry was mixed with fear. In return he worried. He had been staring for over a minute, how?

Shaking away his fear he gave Daphne a sharp nod as they both took several steps back.

"Fiendfyre." He said firmly, Lucifer's flame erupting from his holly wand.

The book _**screamed**_ as a haze of black smoke began to gather above his head, slowly taking form. When he felt as though the horcrux was defeated, the screaming mess of black fog lunged at him from above forcing him to the floor, the mass barely missing him. Still he held the fire till one last death wail echoed off the pipes, leaving a pile of ash where the diary had been. He looked at Daphne and gave her a wicked smile.

Voldemort was mortal once more.

* * *

' _She's telling the truth.'_

Those were her thoughts as she flicked her wrist, transfiguring Fleur's dead body into a croissant and placing a two hour timer on the pastry before placing it in her purse and slipping out the door.

A gruesome thought came to her as she reached Glasgow's apparition point, a wicked smile coming across her diamond shaped face as she disappeared with a pop, reappearing a half second later outside the French Embassy in Whisper Alley, several blocks from her apartment.

Grabbing the croissant from her purse, she leaned it against a brick column attached to a black iron gate in plain view of the busy road.

Chuckling to herself she traversed the five blocks back to her penthouse.

The spy slammed the door behind her as she entered her apartment. Without breaking stride, she made her way down a long hallway, passed the kitchen on the left, through the pleasant living room, up a small spiral staircase and into the master suite.

A solitary tear made its way down her cheek as she activated the security wards attached to her penthouse. She had been preparing for this eventuality for years, although she had hoped to avoid it.

' _It's better to have lived your dream for a short period of time then not at all.'_ She told herself as she grabbed her pre-packed bag off her dresser while destroying the oblong vase connecting her room to her chambers at Hogwarts.

If she wanted to recapture her dream she would have to live in temporary exile while Bellatrix's Lord did his work.

She headed left on Merlin towards Memorial Park, a casual expression on her face as her forgettable travel bag rested over her shoulder. She wondered how long it would be until the auror's would come for her and quickly did the math in her head. Fleur had been dead for ninety minutes already. Assuming she had executed her own endgame before tea time, Septima figured she had several hours till her missives arrived from France.

She walked casually down the street passed the busy shoppers and towards the underutilized apparition point at the far end of the park that lay dead ahead. As she walked she chastised herself for being so reckless, for toying with the veela for so long. In the end her need to play with her food may have cost Septima her life's ambition.

' _It's a setback.'_ She told herself. ' _I'll be rewarded when it's all over.'_

She felt the composition of the magic in the air begin to shift as a translucent dome spread over Whisper Alley. Her eyes widened in horror as the wanted sign on a lamppost in front of her changed from a gaudy picture of Bellatrix to her own picture from the Hogwarts staff directory. The auror's were early. Her estimation assumed Fleur had been in France when she sent those missives. Apparently Fleur had been much closer than Septima had anticipated.

A tinge of fear crept into her psyche. She was no soldier, she couldn't brawl like she cast a disillusionment charm over herself and assessed her position for the first time.

Instantly she spotted the plum robes and insignia of a dozen auror's watching the alley diligently, searching for her no doubt. She looked further, passed the auror's and across the park and smiled. If she could make it to the outskirts of the park she could still execute her plan.

She surveyed the area again, unseen under her charm as she stood in the shade of a willow. Four auror's. That was the path of least resistance.

The four auror's stood at staggered intervals in a semi-circle roughly one hundred yards in front of her. Two male, two female. Her eyes darted to and fro. If Voldemort's intelligence was correct then they were working in pairs, the older more experienced auror's paired with the fresh recruits.

Slightly further to the left, more out of the way than the other pair stood a woman, a senior auror around her size with dark skin and a stern look. Next to her was a smaller trainee, a cocky look on his pig-like face.

Disillusioned, Septima slowly reached into her pocket, searching for her poison laced pen knife.

She felt the cold silver entwine with her fingers and charged, hoping to cover as much ground as possible before illuminating the park in spell fire.

It was the more experienced auror that noticed her fading shimmer first. Caught by surprise, the auror, with red hair and plum robes, barely had time to react before Septima's small knife found the woman's carotid artery, painting the wet brown grass red.

Her attack caused a lady to scream as pandemonium erupted near the parks center.

"Avada Kedavra!" She stated with a flick, taking care of the second auror as the first gurgled on pools of thick red blood as their life faded from their body.

Her cover blown, Septima tipped back her blood stained face, her beautiful brown hair held together in a ponytail, and let out a howl of cruel laughter as she set to re-aim.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

She repeated a half dozen times, each curse claiming a life as the green light of death illuminated the early evening sky.

She turned on the auror's who had converged on her location and smiled once more. "Avada Kedavra!" She yelled twice more, annihilating the auror's as they came.

The wonton murder had bought her some time, which Septima used to calm herself. She could feel herself tiring. She had to get out.

A deadly smile caressed her lips as a simple plan formed in her mind.

Taking aim at the cream gazebo fifty yards ahead, Septima kept her wand steady. Fiendfyre!" She yelled, the deadly spell foreign on her lips.

Cursed flame leapt from her wand, devouring the gazebo in an instant before reducing it to ash, leaving the flames yearning for more as they spread through the park devouring grass, tree, and flesh with ease.

The park smelled like death as she repeated the spell several more times, blocking off a large portion of the park and filling the air with plumes of thick black smoke as Whisper Alley caught ablaze.

Off in the distance a loud explosion sent twenty pounds of shrapnel through the heart of Whisper Alley, the explosion from her building surrounding shoppers and residents alike with cursed flame.

All around her people screamed in terror and in agony while loud sirens announced the arrival of emergency services. Amongst the death and carnage Septima found herself truly relaxed for the first time in months.

' _What the hell, why not?'_ She thought, raising her wand to the sky with a smile.

"Morsmordre!" She bellowed, the Dark Lord's mark filling the sky as she reached her apparition point and disappeared with a barely audible pop.

* * *

Her cat like eyes observed the common room from behind the pages of a nondescript book, falling on the solitary figure sitting unmolested in a comfortable leather chair near the fire.

The blonde haired prefect arrived physically unharmed more than an hour prior, yet Lady Greengrass had yet to make an appearance. To the unknowing Draco looked himself. His well-maintained physical image remained unblemished. It was his eyes that gave him away, they always gave him away.

Her own eyes darted around the room again as she waited for Lady Greengrass to return, unsure what came next.

She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited, eager to prove herself. Her family couldn't afford to make the same mistake as her father. Their dwindling fortune depended on her success, her wits.

In a sea of shit the Rosier's had the ability to distinguish themselves, to establish themselves among society's elite for the next generation. If only she would be given the opportunity.

Potter would win this war. She could see it. She could feel it in her bones. It took more than power to take society; it took intelligence, cunning, cruelty, and a touch of humanity.

The Dark Lord lacked the last bit, Lord Potter did not.

A noise brought her attention back to the common room's entrance where her target stood. Chin up and chest out the room came to a halt the second she was noticed.

The snakes in the den parted like the Red Sea as Morgana's cruel green eyes met her sapphire stare.

Upon seeing her Daphne made a beeline her way, knocking over inkwells and terrified first years as if they were of little consequence. From the corner of her eye she saw Draco silently stalk away, no doubt eager to avoid the woman who let him live, his master.

Daphne did as well, allowing her prey to leave uninhibited before pausing directly in front of her as the common room watched.

"Come with me." She commanded, ignoring the stares as she shivered in pleasure.

Wordlessly the fourth year stood, her own body language imitating Daphne's as they left the room. "Where are we going?" Calypso said gently when they were out of ear shot.

Daphne ignored her inquiry, leading her in silence to an unassuming end table next to an equally unassuming bookshelf in the hallway separating the common room from their quarters.

She squashed her confusion in lieu of admiration as she watched the woman in front of her twirl her wand with ease through the air, giving them all the privacy they desired.

"You are exceptional." Calypso said breathlessly. The blonde beauty didn't acknowledge her comment, choosing instead to hiss at the bookshelf.

Calypso was about to ask what the hell Lady Greengrass was up to when the bookshelf disappeared revealing a large enclave with plenty of comfortable seating "What the hell is this?" Calypso said, temporarily ignoring the fact that Lady Greengrass was a parselmouth.

"A room connected to the Chamber of Secrets." Daphne said seriously.

Her eyes lit up as she began to spout off several questions before Daphne put a hand up to stop her. "Rosier I don't care about your idiotic questions." A sour look came across her face which the older girl pretended not to see. "If Hogwarts were to sound the alarm, I need you to hide as many students as possible in this room."

Calypso smiled. Heroes were never forgotten.

Her smile quickly faltered. "What about the other issue I had talked to you about?"

Miles wasn't the only marked student, the dark lord would mark anyone over sixteen. Theodore Nott, Crabbe and Goyle, Parkinson. They were a threat to the school and an opportunity for her.

Daphne spent several moments staring into her soul. "Make an example of Nott. I don't care about the rest." Calypso nodded. She could do that.

They spent several minutes hissing at the entrance in practice before a commotion from the common room became too much to ignore. The two allies made their way back to the common room only to be met with stares.

Calypso nearly snapped at the crowd, the tension of the room making her uncomfortable, only for a comforting hand to rest on her shoulder. Wordlessly Daphne looked at the assembled crowd an eyebrow raised, a queen waiting for her court to inform her of the news.

It was Malfoy, who was stalking near the back, who broke the silence. "Our lovely Headmistress burned Memorial Park and half Whisper Alley down as the auror's closed in. They also found Fleur Delacour's body on the steps of the French Embassy."

With a curt nod Daphne Greengrass marched from the common room wand in hand, death written across her face.

* * *

The moment he and Daphne parted, Harry made his way to Grimmauld Place. Taking a tunnel underneath the Whomping Willow to the edge of the Hogwarts wards and apparating to the ancient families receiving room, his signet ring allowing him to pass through the wards uninhibited.

He didn't pause as he made his way through the patriarch's office, through an illusion and to the London townhome's keystone. It had taken them all of three seconds to realize that not only had the traitor helped them create their room at Hogwarts, she had access to Grimmauld Place as well.

He was taking care of that while Daphne was " _inspiring female leaders,"_ whatever the hell that means, before meeting him here. They had a battle to plan.

It took him less than five minutes to remove the woman's signature from the list. It was hard to comprehend what the last thirty minutes had been like. He figured when he came up for air the full extent of her betrayal would engulf him in grief and anger.

At the moment, Harry had no need for grief, the anger would do.

His primary task done, he made his way to the fireplace, placing calls first to Tonks then to Minister Bones herself. Tonks had said it best; the Order is finished, the auror's were their next best bet, even if they were about as trustworthy as a Malfoy.

He made his way to the icebox, lost in his thoughts as he sipped his butterbeer and waited. Voldemort was mortal. He's erratic and they now know not only where he trains his army, but the defenses surrounding that training ground as well. The ides of war were reaching a crescendo, they couldn't afford to fuck it up.

The three women arrived almost simultaneously with Daphne shoving her way through the doorway to the patriarchal office first followed by Tonks. Minister Bones, being the last one through, closed the doors thus activating the rooms security measures.

Harry wasted no time in getting to the point, skipping the pleasantries and not bothering with calling an elf. They couldn't afford to dawdle. "We now know who the traitor was."

Daphne butt in. "Minister what's the latest death toll?"

"One hundred and forty six." Minister Bones stated solemnly without missing a beat. "One hundred in the flames at Memorial Park, forty five in the blasts at her residence, and Fleur Delacour."

Tonks, covered in ash cut in. "Another dozen or so are critically injured though the flames are under control; most of Whisper Alley lies in ruin."

A stream of emotions crossed his face before Daphne finally took mercy on him. "We all realized _**her**_ treachery at the same time, either from DuPont or Fleur. Minister Bones sent auror's, including Tonks, after her. They caught up to her in Memorial park where she slit an auror's throat and burned the place to the ground with fiendfyre. Then, for some reason, auror's tried to break into her penthouse and blew everyone up."

Silence confirmed Daphne's synopsis.

"How can you allow your auror's to use BRUTE FORCE on the women who literally wrote the definitive book on security wards' penthouse!" With each word his volume rose, finishing with a yell.

The Minister of Magic rose to her feet before peering over his desk at him, most of her body weight resting on her arms. "Who the hell do you think you are questioning my awareness you little shit." She spat, her face reddening as he kept his face impassive. "The three of you!" She yelled, pointing her finger around the room, including at a now pissed off Tonks, in her rage. "Practically gave the bitch a key to your vaults!"

"Fuck off, Minister." Tonks sneered. "You campaigned on your competency as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement but your entire administration is corrupt. For fucks sake you still take meetings with Malfoy!"

Minister Bones blanched and made to retort when Daphne's voice cut through the room. "Enough!" She yelled, silencing everyone in the room except for herself.

She threw the dossier compiled by DuPont onto the heavy wooden desk with a loud thud.

"Harry's spy in the Death Eater's passed us this dossier, the validity of which I confirmed with three sources of my own." Harry shot her a questioning look. Miles Bletchley had told Calypso Rosier, Malfoy would know as well, he assumed; but that was hardly good enough for Daphne. Who was her third source?

' _Snape.'_

Her head of house was listed prominently in the dossier, he was also in his office when Harry had left.

Daphne continued as Minister Bones browsed the dossier, a rare look of hope on her face. "We have everything we need to permanently cripple, or even kill Voldemort tonight."

The room had settled considerably since the initial outburst so Daphne unsilenced the room.

"I need to know your sources." The Minister said bluntly as she read through the intelligence.

Daphne and Tonks both gave him a glance, he replied with a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. DuPont wouldn't want his name involved.

" _ **My**_ three sources, are Calypso Rosier who heard the information independently from a drunk Miles Bletchley. Severus Snape, who has provided Harry and myself countless bits of information, information that we have consistently passed along to you, Minister. You've unknowingly found it reliable in the past."

Harry kept the shock off his face but didn't call her out. Whatever Daphne negotiated between them and Snape, he'd play along.

"And Draco Malfoy. Draco also was the one to warn me of Septima Vector. He presented evidence that convinced me she killed my family, Minister Bones."

He marveled at her resolve. A year ago Daphne would be a ball of rage. It's amazing what a year of death can do for your perspective.

"We have a rare opportunity, Minister. Voldemort doesn't know we have this information, and for the first time in sixty years he is completely mortal. She glanced at him tepidly, hoping to seek approval at having revealed their greatest secret.

The room was silent again. Daphne looked at him as if begging him to speak for her, but he wouldn't. This was her moment.

"Through our own sources we have been able to confirm that Voldemort survived through the help of a device called a horcrux."

Minister Bones' eyes widened and her face contorted in disgust.

"Oh good. You know what those are. That saves us some time." She said with some relief. "Voldemort made seven horcruxes, though he only made six on purpose. Harry was an accidental horcrux. We can get into the details some other time but the point is we have destroyed them all."

"Does he know you have destroyed his horcruxes?" The Minister asked.

They shared a glance. "We don't know." Daphne said with a tinge of disappointment. "There's no reason to suspect he does, but we don't know."

Minister Bones accepted Daphne's explanation without comment before finally bringing up the elephant in the room. "Even with all that we still have to destroy Voldemort." Bones said pointedly.

Tonks smiled, her hair a magnificent fire red. "His lack of humanity leaves him unpredictable. Harry and Daphne's intelligence confirms that the Dark Lord tires quickly and is unpredictable in his emotion."

Harry smiled grimly. "Voldemort won't be able to pass up the opportunity to kill me in front of all his supporters." He began. "If we can draw him to Denbigh we can finish him for good."

Minister Bones still looked skeptical. "How do you suppose we do that? Even weakened the man killed Albus Dumbledore."

The Minister had a fair point. Albus Dumbledore had been considered one of the greatest sorcerers in the last millenia at the time of his death; but he had also been nearly one hundred and fifty years old. "Albus was intelligent and capable at the time of his death, but he was hardly the warlock that defeated Grindelwald." Harry stated bluntly. "If we draw him into open battle we can collectively kill him."

Minister Bones still looked skeptical. He couldn't particularly blame her. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" was evil incarnate. Even saying his name was said to bring his wrath. The minister herself had lost her entire family to the monster.

"We're losing this war, Amelia." He said softly. "If we don't take advantage of this opportunity we will have lost."

 **A/N:** If I titled chapters this would be called "Septima's Wrath". One chapter to go.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer:** I make no money from JKR's creations.

* * *

It was nearly dusk when she made it to the old castle in central Wales, a satisfied smile on her soot covered face. She smelled of death. Calmly she made her way through the mostly ruined castle to the entrance of a bunker leading to a labyrinth of tunnels spreading beneath, through the valley, and high into the mountains above.

Death eater's parted for her in a mixture of fear and silence, her antics in London well known by now as she searched for Bellatrix.

"Headmistress Vector!" A familiar voice cat-called. "You really know how to announce yo-"

"Fuck you Flint." She muttered, her wand twitching slightly as she placed the underachiever under the cruciatus. She paused for a long moment, savoring the boy's screams as they echoed off the stone walls while his peers watched on in silence, not daring to help the foolish man. She pushed all her hate and anger into the spell, her rage at her ruined life fueling Flint's pain. "I've always wanted to do that." Septima added, ending the curse and moving along.

Her anger wasn't abated and she doubted it would be any time soon; if her display in Whisper Alley didn't do it torturing a pedophile like Flint sure wouldn't. She wound deeper into the labyrinth, only pausing when she reached the war room. "Bellatrix." Septima greeted evenly as she stepped into the room. She ignored the hungry looks being shot her way by Antonin knowing he wouldn't dare touch her, not with Bellatrix around.

"What do you want?" The older woman snapped.

Bellatrix's tone did not shock her. Dolohov's face, however, caused her to pause. Antonin Dolohov wore a knowing smile as he skulked to the corner of the room, clearly eager to see what would become of her.

She pushed him from her mind and focused on the task at hand. Septima had thought of what she would say in this moment a thousand times, she had even practiced groveling in the mirror. Survive and advance. That was the name of the game. But in that moment she couldn't do it, she wouldn't beg. Septima was nothing if not a survivor. Bellatrix, she knew, would see right through her pathetic pleas– she _had_ seen right through it. They were using each other, it was always going to be that way. Their relationship had only one real outcome. At the end of the war only one of them would be alive, they both knew it. Septima thought about it for a long moment. She could reach for her wand, but that's what Bellatrix wanted, an excuse to end her life. She wouldn't give it to her. Not today. Bellatrix Lestrange was psychotic. Harry would kill her if the Dark Lord didn't.

Her hopes and dreams had been dashed and she had nobody to blame but herself and her ego. Fleur couldn't help but play Nancy Drew and Septima couldn't help but play the spider. Septima should have known better. There was something to be said for direct confrontation. Had she remembered that she would still be Headmistress.

"How can I be of service?" She wasn't a fool. Her actions in Whisper Alley would have consequences. Still she was significantly more valuable alive.

She saw the rage turn in her former lover as Bellatrix stomped over to her, drooping slightly so she could look her in the eyes. Septima thought the woman was going to rant at her when she doubled over in pain, shallow cuts appearing all over her body, soaking her white shirt red. Bellatrix smiled as she lifted her up by the throat. "Who the _**fuck**_ do you think you are, Vector?" Bellatrix spat with vitriol.

Septima tried to remain calm, to not show weakness as she felt her legs begin to kick and her head lighten while air struggled to get to her brain. She let out a gurgled cry as another papercut came close to her genitalia. Another still, close to her ulnar artery.

"The destruction you caused in Whisper Alley ruined weeks of planning!" Bellatrix hissed as she resorted to muggle violence, punching her in the ribs a half dozen times, leaving her wheezing in pain while she tried in vain to level out her breathing. Bellatrix took a breath, calming in an instant, setting her gently on the ground and ending her curse.

Septima stood up slowly, refusing to double over in pain while Bellatrix continued softly. "Where do you get away casting the mark?" The vile woman said gently, cupping her cheek. "You, an unmarked muggleborn?" She laughed cruelly, pulling her wand out of thin air and training it on her. "Crucio." The spell rolled off the psychopath's tongue as if it were the name of a lover, though perhaps not.

Septima screamed as her innards burst into flames, the blood from her cuts oozing from her wounds, bubbling like magma from a crevice.

She screamed herself hoarse as blood vessels and capillaries were stressed to their limit before bursting, leaving a spiders web of Bellatrix's displeasure across her abdomen.

Desperately she wanted not to scream, to fight the pain and best her tormentor but she wasn't that strong. In her weakness Septima wanted Bellatrix to end her. To end her suffering and provide her with a way to avoid the karma she was owed, but she didn't beg. She was strong enough for that. She wouldn't beg a woman to kill her.

She fought for control of her mind, feeling it beginning to crack under the karma.

' _Is this what the Longbottom's felt right before they broke?'_ She felt her body warm and time begin to fracture -

Then the earth shook, the pain stopped, and her mind settled.

* * *

The wind whipped through his messy black hair, a boyish grin on his depressingly severe face despite the grim circumstances. There was something about flying through the air that brought a calm about him. In a different life he could see himself ending his long days with quidditch practice and a kiss from Daphne rather than mock battles and numbing charms.

He shifted his weight. Diving in an instant he twirled at a seventy degree angle, spiraling towards the face of the snow-covered mountain before pulling up ten or so meters short of doom, sending loose snow flying in the twilight.

"Back in line, Potter." The ranking auror, one of a dozen he was in formation with chirped through the receptacle in his ear. The smile never left his face as he fell back in with the others without another word.

He shook away the incoming frown as his dragonhide covered fingers gripped his custom Nimbus. He preferred not to wear them but if his broom caught fire his normally exposed skin would remain protected under the thick double layer of dragonhide armor.

Their silhouettes made them look like geese flying in formation, in this case an inverse "V" spearheaded by their commander. Harry made up one of six riders on the left leg of the "V" flying in sequence with his guard both in front of and behind him. He caught eyes with his first guard, a woman named Meadows in her early thirties, as she looked over her shoulder back at him and smiled. Meadows could barely contain her laugh at the sight of him. Harry imagined he looked as ridiculous in his battle goggles and helmet as she did in hers.

Including their fearless leader their air unit was comprised of twelve auror's and himself acting as the cavalry, clearing the way for Tonks, Daphne, and the hundred or so auror's participating in the initial ground attack.

The full moon was rising by the time they made it over the mountains and into view of the ancient castle acting as a death eater stronghold.

"The boys did it!" Someone cried over the com in his ear, verbalizing what they were all thinking. It hadn't been a given that they would be able to bring down the protection wards in time for their arrival.

Someone else let out a gasp at what they saw.

In front of them sat a scale model of Diagon and Whisper Alley's. "Holy shit." Meadows muttered into her com.

"This changes nothing!" Their leader snapped. "Break formation!"

His leg of the "V" broke left, the other right while the commander played maestro above.

The entire valley was a maze of underground bunkers containing between seventy five and a hundred and fifty death eaters at any given time, DuPont's dossier had said.

Their job was simple; bomb the hell out of the death eater's so the troops have a clear path when they arrive to take care of any resistance. There was a simple brilliance to it, and it provided Harry with an excuse to utilize the military grade spells he had been practicing in the Forbidden Forest.

Flanked by Meadows and Stevens, Harry smiled savagely as he aimed his wand at the ground and unleashed hell. He watched intently as the metallic ball of energy burrowed itself deep into the earth before exploding outward; sending dirt, gravel, and gore ten meters into the air. "Direct hit." He heard Meadows report with glee.

Meadows and Stevens were meant to protect him and report back to the commander. Each leg had only two combatants capable of both flying _and_ unleashing magic at that level without exhausting themselves. Even with only three others dropping artillery on the death eaters this was already the most ambitious aerial attack in modern wizarding history. He had sold Minister Bones on his ability to deliver.

"Proceed." The measured voice of their commander said, giving them the go ahead to continue their assault.

Across the valley he watched as faux Whisper and Diagon Alleys were obliterated into dust by the other leg of their team before unleashing his own fury, managing three more balls before eliciting a response from the chaotic enemy.

"Foxhole to the right!" Stevens' calls out through his com. "Protect Boy Wonder. Eliminate the threat." The commander replies monotonously, unbothered by the violence.

Wordlessly the auror fly's off, hitting the threat with a killing curse before falling under attack, lasting no more than five seconds before plummeting to his death.

"Stevens is down!" Meadows panicked voice rang through. "Stay with Boy Wonder." The commander responded blandly once more.

The night vision on his battle goggles kicks in as the sun disappears behind the mountains and he swears he sees movement at the castle off in the distance.

Zooming in Harry was proven right. At the cold castle the enemy had begun to emerge from their holes. Bellatrix Lestrange directing them as the traitor shook violently in the shadows behind her.

He smiled viciously at the sight of his former mentor – her actions had pissed off Bellatrix enough to lead to her own torture. One way or another Septima Vector would die on this battlefield.

Voldemort's top general began directing her lieutenants attention across the valley where a force of auror's were waging war with small bands of death eaters, who were popping out of holes and killing several at a time before immediately disappearing into the earth once more, throwing the ministry's forces into disarray.

Around him spells lit the air as the cavalry fell into a panic and he found himself dipping and diving once more, this time for his life. Still the smile didn't leave his face as the cool winter sky rushed over his thin nose and bushy eyebrows. His smile only widening a moment later when he saw Antonin Dolohov take to the air with his own cavalry.

Harry cackles like a jackal into the evening sky as he sped off with purpose, dropping balls of energy on the battle in pursuit of Dolohov, this time changing the energy so they would explode on contact.

The results were devastating and soon two of Dolohov's little birds were on his tail as he led them on a dizzying goose chase through the air, spells whizzing and zooming past his head at a frantic pace. He was having the time of his life while time slowed down as he barrel rolled counterclockwise to avoid a killing curse directed at him from the ground, returning in kind he barely missed his target before pulling up at a sharp ninety degree angle and leveling out, Dolohov's birds still hot on his tail. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't resist. He was having too much fun.

Tapping his wand to his throat he amplified his voice so the birdies would hear his call through the screams of the battle and the rush of the wind. "You'll have to be better than that little birds!" He taunted as he disillusioned himself and shot upwards once more into the night before doubling back on the enemy.

In a moment he was between the two of them. "Fiendfyre." He whispered, the cursed flame devouring the birdy to his right in an instant. He repeated his actions on the birdy to his left sending two balls of death towards the valley below before disposing of his camo and cackling into the sky once more as he raced off in search of his prey.

Around him chaos reigned. They had underestimated the size of the enemy force by a wide-margin and were suffering heavy losses, having lost nearly a quarter of their army in the first few minutes of battle. Off in the distance reinforcements were already beginning to pour in; the Minister had put too many resources into this battle to lose, she was committing to victory tonight.

His eyes found Hel and for a moment he was enchanted by Bellatrix Lestrange.

Illuminated by the moonlight her hips swayed to the reaper's song, a symphony of death gliding across the battlefield taking partners.

She was hypnotizing and horrifying all at once.

He was forced to barrel roll to his right, his torso narrowly avoiding a cutter from Dolohov. Still the spell connected with his thigh, severing his femoral artery and staining his robes dark crimson. Within seconds he felt himself weakening from the loss of blood.

' _What do the healing books say?'_

He knew he didn't have long. A few minutes maybe, before he was dead if he didn't take action.

' _What do the healing books say?'_

He didn't know. He couldn't recall. Healing was more Daphne's niche. She was in the class, not him.

He found himself becoming woozy as his vision began to blur and he struggled to maintain control of his broom. _'Fuck it.'_ Something primal in his mind said as he bit his lip. Knowing no other way, Harry placed his wand on the bleeding wound, cooking his flesh as he cauterized his wound with a feral scream.

He grasped around airily for a moment before finding his pocket. His fingers gripping a blood replenisher, he grinned maniacally, pale as death as he removed the stopper and downed it in one. Within seconds his vision returned to him as the battle raged on beneath. The reinforcements seeming to have done their job.

While dealing with his wound Dolohov had disappeared into the mayhem, making the assumption he was dead.

Harry parried spells as he searched for Dolohov, his eyes falling momentarily on Daphne below, who was handling herself nicely against the traitor. It wouldn't be long now, death was in the air.

He accelerated to top speed as he spotted his enemy across the way and below. Parrying another group of spells he lowered his shoulder and set his broom in a free-fall, his eyes never leaving Dolohov, the serial killer who attacked Sirius in Diagon Alley.

He drove his shoulder into Dolohov's, de-brooming the older man, sending them both hurtling towards the ground with force as they landed with a sickening crunch, Harry's helmet saving his life as he buried a knee into Dolohov's chest, regaining control of the situation.

The Russian monster gave him a broken smile through his own cracked helmet before spitting blood and bits of tooth in his face in response. Dolohov's breath smelled of cabbage as the slightly bigger man then caught Harry with an elbow to the nose, breaking it with a sickening crunch.

In the confusion Dolohov laughed and collected his wand from the ground before running off into the crowd. "Chase me Potter! Chase me!" The lunatic chanted in jest. "The Dark Lord will reward me above all others!"

Ignoring his impulses Harry laid chase, shielding and returning fire as needed.

He quickly came under attack by a band of death eaters working as a trio, one shielding while the other two attacked. Harry smiled viciously as he dipped and doodled his way through their meager attempts, thanking merlin for the hours spent with Moody preparing for this moment.

He twirled counterclockwise to avoid emasculation before lowering his shoulder into a roll under a hoard of projectiles. As he came out of his roll he disemboweled the woman to his left, enraging the man to her right as he abandoned shielding to throw killing curses his way.

Harry smiled through the smoke, his body throbbing from the crucible he was undertaking as his tornado of butterflies intercepts four killing curses. Without wasting more energy than necessary Harry eliminated the crazed death eater and his friend before continuing his search for Dolohov.

He passed an auror with blood dripping from his mouth, leg hanging by a strand limping around the blood-soaked meadow, as he loudly yelled if anyone had seen his wand.

Beyond that a group of death eaters were about to ambush a squad of auror reinforcements, causing Harry to temporarily abandon his chase long enough to fire off a half-dozen killing curses.

His hesitation forced him to dive to the ground as a boomerang of blue flew over his head. "You're making it easy on me, Potter!" Dolohov said from off to his right, his ugly face illuminated by the flames of the valley.

His wand in motion, Harry created inferi from the death eaters he had just disposed of, directing them at Dolohov. While the man was defending, Harry fired off a trio of killing curses at varying heights forcing the death eater to take a break from burning the horde of inferi in order to hastily conjure a series of steel shields.

"Very good Potter!" His opponent gushed, sending a triage of curses back his way.

His eyes never left his opponent as he quickly closed the gap between himself and Dolohov, dodging his curses and returning fire as he did so.

Dolohov's style was different than his own, relying on physical shields and a series of gruesome curses and transfigurations to maim and capture his opponents. The man was a champion of sadism known to conduct physical and psychological experiments on his captives.

' _Terry.'_ Dolohov was responsible for that massacre. Harry owed Edmund a head.

The Russian slaughtered his pack of wolves and smacked his blood-boiler out of the night sky before rifling dozens of round, metal projectiles his way.

Harry couldn't avoid them all as a half dozen tore through his left shoulder leaving his entire arm to hang loosely, useless at his side.

He felt embarrassment as his enemy drew blood once more. How was he supposed to kill Voldemort if he couldn't handle a creature like Dolohov?

He switched to a less nuanced approach, putting more of a focus on savagery than optics, he sent a spell meant to butcher cattle several times in rapid succession at Dolohov.

The man shielded both but was forced to take several steps back to avoid the third, leaving him backed into a corner of fire. Harry smiled devilishly, the flames reflecting off his armor and illuminating his face, he unleashed a long, thin band of pale blue at the man.

The spell wrapped itself around Antonin Dolohov before severing his legs from his body at the knees. He let out a pained growl as he levelled his wand at Harry. The tough son of a bitch refusing to back down on the verge of certain death while Harry knocked his spells aside with ease.

"I've been looking forward to this for a long time, _**Sergei.**_ " He spat, punching the man in the face. Dolohov roared in laughter as blood dripped from his mouth.

"You may kill me Potter! But I will always live within him!"

Reaching into the sheath in his robes he removed the mythril scythe Orion gave to his oldest son on his eleventh birthday and grabbed the man by his hair, the battle around him pausing for just a moment. "This is for Terry, you son of a bitch." He spat before slitting the man's throat, leaving Dolohov nearly decapitated on the field.

A slow, sarcastic applause cut through the silence. "Bravo, Lord _**Black.**_ _"_ The chilling voice of Bellatrix Lestrange said with a predatory grin. "Let's see how you do with a challenge."

* * *

Bellatrix had made a mistake. She thought to herself as the ground shook, her tormentor storming out of the bunker to check on the commotion up top. And now Septima hoped to capitalize on it.

Still shaking, she picked herself off the ground, her momentum taking her to the desk across the room that contained her wand. It warmed to her touch as she rummaged around the room further for a pain potion. Finding that and a few more she downed several and felt her mind come into focus and the pain numb. The bunker shook the floor once more, this time caving in a portion of the ceiling, covering the ground with stone and soil. She had to leave before the rest of the tunnel system caved in.

Nobody questioned her as she made her way from the bunker towards the castle up top. Whether it was the chaos or her reputation that kept them from intruding she did not know and she did not care. She needed to take advantage of the window being provided to her.

The stairs crumbled beneath her, causing her to misstep before finding her footing and ascending to the surface as the ministry bombarded the underground fortress. There was chaos raining from the sky as the ongoing aerial attack paved the way for the battalion of auror's slowly making their way across the valley towards the castle. ' _Idiots.'_ She thought as Bellatrix's troops popped out of the ground to execute several auror's at a time before disappearing once more, sending the ministry's forces into pandemonium as they turned to fire spells at one another, not realizing the death eaters had already disappeared.

It was the air though that held her attention. The battle raged on as the ministry forces, led by Harry Potter, a Zeus among Graces, devastated Dolohov's ragtag group of assholes. Despite the situation Septima found herself longing for one last look at the man in action. Still trembling, she snuck up dangerously close to Bellatrix to get a better look, downing a potion she felt her tremors, remnants of the cruciatus curse, subside slightly.

She watched in awe as Harry was backed into a corner, only to kill several death eaters in quick succession with barely a wave of his wand.

The ground shook once more, reminding her of the dire situation she currently found herself in. She had to escape if she was to survive.

Septima glanced around a final time. Bellatrix was howling in delight as the aerial unit's commander plummeted headless towards the earth. It was now or never.

She headed in the opposite direction of Bellatrix, towards the mock-up of Whisper and Diagon Alley's and into the heap of the battle.

The moon illuminated the battlefield as heaps of auror's intermingled with death eaters, donned in black and in bone white masks they looked like death incarnate.

"VECTOR!" A familiar voice cut across the night sky.

Septima batted away an array of stunning curses sent her way by Daphne Greengrass, temporarily confused as to why the young sociopath wasn't resorting to something more lethal.

' _She wants me alive.'_ A cold chill passed through her as the implication settled in, pumping adrenaline through her veins. She couldn't allow that to happen.

"Avada Kedavra!" She yelled desperately a dozen times as the girl closed the gap between the two.

She had lost. Septima realized desperately as the first bonebreaker connected with her collarbone. A second bonebreaker connected with her ribcage a moment later puncturing a lung, leaving her wheezing for air a second time as a pair of devilish green eyes approached her.

* * *

The sun hung low in the late February sky. "What the hell is taking so long?" Tonks mumbled to her softly.

Silently Daphne wondered the same thing. Time was running out, she could almost make out Harry's unit over the mountains across the valley. "Harry would have had this done by now." She responded to the dueling champion who nodded her head in agreement, much to the chagrin of the ward master working the wards directly in front of her.

Daphne tapped her dragon hide boot impatiently as they waited. Each second wasted was a second longer Bellatrix Lestrange and Septima Vector lived.

Off in the distance she could see the setting sun reflect off the polished handles of the incoming brooms. If she could see them, then the enemy could see them. Daphne really didn't know what the holdup was, she had looked at the wards with Harry and recognized nearly half of them. Harry had estimated it would take no longer than 3 minutes.

It had taken Carmodogan nearly five. _'Maybe he's hourly?'_ Daphne thought with disdain. What low standards the ministry must have to not just allow this fool to become a ward master, but to allow him to serve on such a sensitive mission.

"We're a go!" The ward master shouted over the com in her ear.

"Finally you dumb prick!" Another auror shouted as the rest laughed.

" _The boys did it!"_ She heard one of the aerial team members exclaim over the com, eliciting whoops of joy from the other members of the cavalry.

They separated into three large groups as Harry painted the sky with color. Her group would handle the left flank, taking the mock-up of Diagon Alley. Tonks group would charge straight ahead while an intimidating auror named Shacklebolt led the right flank.

"Zeta we're a go." The commander rang in over her ear com.

They charged forward in groups of three; one auror in charge of shielding while the other two peppered the area with offensive might.

Daphne grunted as a spell slipped through the auror's shields and sliced her non-wand arm. Silently healing it she growled in frustration. The constrictive style was counterintuitive and the opposite of how she had trained with Tonks and Harry. Their styles were fluid and beautiful. Agility was their shields, communication their back up. The inability of the auror's was harming her mission.

A half dozen death eaters appeared out of the night, killing the auror in charge of shielding in an instant before training their attention on her and the other auror.

Daphne didn't hesitate. Silently unleashing a barrage of bludgeoners and acid hexes at her enemies with measured abandon, a pair of those bludgeoners left two holes in death eater chests evening the odds slightly, leaving four enemies for her and her now injured partner.

' _He's not going to make it like this.'_ She realized in annoyance. He'd be less of a hindrance if he were dead.

"Avada Kedavra!" She roared. Catching the auror and the now dead death eater off guard.

She couldn't decide if she had found her mark or not and realized it didn't matter. Either way a problem was solved.

Ignoring her weakened partner she turned on the three remaining death eaters as they began their counter attack.

Daphne crouched to the ground before wordlessly unleashing a dark gray cloud. Silently she worked herself into position before charging forward out of the smoke, catching the first death eater by surprise with a cutting curse to the throat, she pirouetted on the second death eater, impaling him with a conjured metal spike.

When she turned around the final death eater had disappeared into the night, leaving her alone and breathing heavily, her eyes searching for her prey.

Around her the smoke hid the full moon and stars from view, the howls of the grievously wounded haunting the night sky.

Large embankments of earth had sprung up during the barrage, leaving her prey with plenty of places to take cover, should she-so choose.

A plethora of light illuminated her surroundings from one of the explosions, causing her eyes to go wide as the ambush was exposed.

"Avada Kedavra!" She yelled, not bothering to watch the first death eater die as she danced around a killing curse.

The commotion drew the attention of several other death eaters and soon Daphne found herself under attack by nearly a dozen enemies.

Desperation filling her for the first time as she pointed her wand at a clump of earth, blood, and bone, transforming the mess into a hideous golem. Using one of Harry's animation tricks, essentially combining an animation charm with a variation of the imperious curse, she left the golem to its own devices, drawing the attention of Daphne's attackers away from her.

As they handled the golem Daphne squared her shoulders and let out a loud laugh, pointing her black wand at the night sky.

" _Super mortuo!"_ She yelled several times in quick succession.

Dozens of flaming rocks rained down from the heavens, decimating her opponents; Daphne's adrenaline making up for her creeping exhaustion.

She turned her attention back to hunting her prey, finding her fifty meters west attempting to flee the carnage into the night.

"VECTOR!" She yelled half mad into the void, unleashing a barrage of stunners at the traitor, hoping to connect.

The spy batted them away with ease, before returning fire, forcing Daphne to summon the spy's now-dead comrades into the path of the incoming killing curses.

Septima didn't let up with her killing curses even as Daphne closed the gap between the two without firing a single spell. _'Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.'_ She reminded herself over and over again. The woman's death now wouldn't be enough.

"You can't flee from death, murderer!" She yelled unleashing a barrage of bone breakers as she closed the gap between the two. One of her spells found its mark causing the woman to drop to a knee as her collarbone shattered.

Five meters away Daphne sent one more bone breaker at Septima's rib cage, taking pleasure in her desperate wheezes and labored breaths the blonde girl grabbed her former headmistress by her pretty brown hair and disappeared.

* * *

She was thankful the ground shook when it did, she had lost control of the situation and would have tortured the bitch into insanity if it hadn't.

Bellatrix dashed from the room, leaving the broken woman on the floor she touched the tip of her wand to her dark mark three times in quick succession, alerting her Lord that the ministries attack had begun.

First the situation with Vector now the ministry attacking her on her ground. This was shaping up to be the best day of her life. She could barely contain her excitement as she rounded the corner and ran up the stairs. "Antonin!" She shouted into her com. "Potter is destroying the western bank. Get up there and take care of him."

"Yes ma'am." The sadist said simply. Obeying without further word.

She took a moment to savor that brief moment. Ophelia used to compare breaking a man like Dolohov to breaking a wild hippogriff. The highest compliment one could pay to lesser creatures. Ophelia had taught her that as well.

Bellatrix watched as Dolohov and his pawns took to the air as Septima Vector trembled just out of her line of vision. If the younger woman was smart she would attempt to run. Better to take her chances with Potter and Daphne than her.

She turned her attention back to the battle at hand, whispering several more commands into her com. They had prepared for this moment, the Bletchley boy playing his part perfectly. For all her potential, Daphne was still just a silly child playing at war.

There was a labyrinth of tunnels extending from the edge of the valley and up into the mountains of foxholes, traps, and bunkers making up her gauntlet of death and Bellatrix was desperate to begin. She needed this release. She had played nice for so long and this was her reward.

The ground shook once more as Potter continued to decimate a large portion of her forces while small bands of death eaters carried out a coordinated series of lightning attacks against the auror's. There was to be no gory attempts by the pawns tonight, just bursts of green.

She threw her head back in mad laughter as the head of the auror commander fell through the sky, splattering like a melon on the hard earth below. She had waited for this moment for months. Tonight she would crush the ministry.

The smell of ash and sulfur filled the air as her eyes scanned the battlefield. In the first several minutes alone the enemy had taken heavy losses, clearly underestimating the size of her Lord's forces. It wouldn't be long before the auror's would call in reinforcements. She was looking for an opening, a way to assert herself on the battlefield. There were precious few that could match her in individual combat and she yearned for a challenge.

During the later years of her apprenticeship to Grindelwald's finest, Ophelia had prepared her for open battle. Bellatrix had always found beauty in the chaos. Simpletons were most efficient in tight knit groups with either two aggressors with a shield or three men back to back. Those who weren't trained in battle techniques resorted to crude disillusionment charms that disappeared when you made to attack. That was their cowardly mistake. Warriors needed to be seen.

She wore no mask as she walked her way left, through the screams and terror towards Kingsley Shacklebolt's troops. The man directed one third of the battle from a solitary station in the center of his men. Eliminating him would sow chaos.

The moon illuminated her graceful movements as her ash wand cut through the air in a series of well-practiced twirls and jabs designed to efficiently, and painfully kill her enemies.

The first three spells, simply fourth-year blasting curses, struck true. Exploding three heads in quick succession. But her wand didn't stop. A nano-second later several light pink spells found their mark but seemingly had no effect. Bellatrix paid them no worries, finishing the last of Ophelia's chain, two more spells disassembled two auror's in plum robes. Three explosions from behind her as she moved along let Bellatrix know her organ exploding curses had eliminated those remaining threats.

Whether a conscious effort or not, the battlefield opened up to her as she got within range of Shacklebolt barking orders.

"Kingsley dear!" She yelled when she was certain the black man could hear her. "Let's see if you took my last lesson to heart!"

She unleashed a torrent of fire at the tree of a man but it was immediately met with a shield of water, leaving the area hot with steam. Bellatrix grinned wildly as she launched an unseen dagger at the man before he had an opportunity to cast a counter.

Quick wand-work saved the senior auror's life as he transfigured the knife into a falcon and directed it her way before launching a series of bone-breakers and cutters.

Bellatrix laughed as she danced her way out of harm, advancing as she returned fire.

Kingsley was a simple beast of below average intelligence and above average power. He wasn't going to overwhelm her with creativity or try and move his lumbering body. The man's strength lay in his agility as a spell-caster, his limited ability to manipulate spells, and his counter.

Bellatrix was forced to dispatch of a pair of black bears giving Shacklebolt a moment to begin his own spell chain.

Several bone-breakers, some wide as a tree and straight, others narrow as a pin and twirling made for unpredictable dodging so she slowed her forward progress to bat away the spells of the enemy.

"Very good Kingsley!" She cooed. "You're _much_ more creative when it's only your life on the line." She wished she could recall the name of his wife but it escaped her. "What was her name again?" Bellatrix did hope Kingsley would tell her before doing something rash.

Her hopes were dashed a second later as an enraged Kingsley screamed in anger, leaving his comfort zone by charging her head on.

"Stupid auror. Do tell..." it was on the tip of her tongue. "Maude! Tell Maude I said hello." A white beam of light in the shape of a scythe swept at Shacklebolt's feet, cutting them off at the ankle as the man fell directly on his new stumps in astonishment.

Calmly Bellatrix lowered her wand and glanced about the battlefield. Far off to the left Daphne was taking care of Vector while Potter was decimating her pawns in pursuit of Antonin. The man didn't have much time left, she imagined.

Kingsley landed hard on his new stubs, wobbling around momentarily before falling face first into the cold hard ground. "Silly auror." She cooed as she picked up her dagger and opened the vein on his throat.

* * *

She separated from Daphne and rejoined her group quietly as they made their way into the heart of the battle.

Embedded deep within the center of their cluster sat her team of ten. They had the honor of destroying the belly of the beast.

Tonks switched her com to her teams dedicated channel. "Ahead twenty meters!" She barked. She was greeted by silence as they made their way through the heart of the battle and to the chosen foxhole.

She took a deep breath. She didn't know what to expect. For muggles fighting in Asia similar tunnels had meant near certain death, but she had never infiltrated a tunnel before. Pushing aside her fear, Tonks jumped in through the hole with her wand held at the ready, landing in the mud with a soft thud.

Dimly lit torches illuminated the narrow tunnel as her team stood one wide and back to back. They would not be ambushed.

The tunnel was eerily quiet, the only noise being the rumble of the battle above. In front of her she saw only her breath and dirt. _'Has the enemy blown their load?'_

They stopped as they reached an impasse before quietly separating into two groups of three and her group of four.

Her group pressed on silently and she could tell the inaction was beginning to take its toll on the team. They had expected resistance but had found silence. They were trained to deal with the uncertainty of battle. How to adapt when a situation breaks down. How to handle being a prisoner of war, but not this. Above them chaos claimed hundreds of lives but down here she could hear crumbling dirt hit the floor.

Something wasn't right.

"Boss there's nothing in bunker one." Jeffries rang over their private line. "Ditto with bunker three boss." A second voice chimed in.

A chill ran down her spine. DuPont's information pegged Denbigh as Voldemort's base of operations. Three large bunkers beneath the valley with the bulk of the enemy's intelligence. Had DuPont double crossed them? Was this a trap?

Tonks' mind raced as she toggled through com channels, her eyes widening. Amelia had called in reinforcements. _'Where would she pull them from?'_ They were already spread thin as it was with the traitor's hissy fit to clean up.

Her group of three other auror's all stared at her as they approached the second bunker. Tonks cast several diagnostic charms. If the room was protected, it wasn't by magic.

Stepping into the ugly underground bunker Tonks let out a frustrated sigh. "Bunker two is empty." She reported.

' _What the hell is going on?'_

* * *

She watched as the life drained from the big man's eyes before turning her attention elsewhere, confident she had disposed of Shacklebolt with enough time left for some fun.

Around her the battle gave the appearance of being in full swing but she knew better. It was just the chosen left now, the rest were with her Lord. She would be as well, soon as her Lord needed her.

Bellatrix frowned. Her niece had disappeared. She had been hoping to kill that branch of the family tree for good. Daphne and Vector had also disappeared. The latter caused her to smile. Daphne hadn't left a body, Vector wouldn't be let off lightly after all.

Her eyes found Potter and she was off in a flash, arriving just in time to see Dolohov flop lifelessly to the ground. "Bravo Lord _**Black.**_ " She said in what passed as amusement. "Let's see how you do with a challenge!"

She was on him in a heartbeat sending dozens of steel balls towards the boy with glee. Each barring was moving at a high enough velocity to tear through that fancy armor of his and he knew it. Far-from panicking, Potter transfigured several orbs into a flock of sparrows while avoiding the rest of her spell altogether. Bellatrix offered Harry Potter a genuine smile. He came as-advertised.

As she avoided the sparrows and extended several tendrils of haggard lightning towards her opponent she never stopped moving. Movement meant life. Movement meant victory. Movement divided the enemies focus.

Everything the tendrils touch charred earth as Potter ducked, weaved, and returned fire; his wand never taking a break. He too was a student of Ophelia.

She abruptly ended the lightning, sending 'Thor's Hammer' towards Potter as a small change of pace.

He batted it aside, responding in kind but following it up with a killing curse as she squealed in delight, summoning a corpse to take the punishment.

The corpse exploded in a gory display, the half-cooked meat covering the once lush valley. "How's your conditioning, my liege?" She asked, smacking away his latest attempt and erupting with her full arsenal.

Emasculation, disembowelment, certain death, the bubonic plague - Potter danced through it all and some, returning fire with a host of bonebreakers and a mixture of nasty of his own. The boy was great, prodigious even. He should be dead but the young Lord cast as though he had just arrived. The longer her barrage continued the faster Potter moved returning punishment in kind, a psychotic laughter of his own echoing across the mostly empty field; _Ignem Aestifer,_ bolts of lightning, flaming arrows, she even batted aside the jelly legs jinx as neither gave an inch. Harry Potter was a challenge and Bellatrix found herself oddly jealous of Daphne Greengrass. She knew what it was like to tie your hopes and dreams to a god. Taking your power was an intoxication she hadn't felt in years. _'Should I be successful tonight, however…'_

Changing the paradigm Bellatrix followed a thunderclap up with a cloud of thick black smoke, eliminating two of the boy's senses in as many seconds. Used to the disorientation of battle Bellatrix closed the gap between herself and Potter hoping to catch him off guard.

From her left three large spears of ice emerged from the darkness, the last catching her in the shoulder, impaling her non-wand arm.

Through the thick smoke she saw his cold green eyes and smiled. Having pinned his location Bellatrix sent four bonebreakers his way, connecting with both of his legs.

Bellatrix Lestrange smiled warmly as she stood over him, hatred in his eyes she stomped on his wand wrist, taking satisfaction in the sickening crunch and crouching down to meet his eyes, she leaned in close. Cupping his cheek lovingly she kissed him deeply, shoving her tongue down his throat roughly for several seconds as he fought to break free.

Pulling away and with her lips still brushing his Bellatrix looked Harry in his beautiful green eyes and smiled. "Heal yourself up love, we'll finish this in Hogsmeade."

Having had her fun, Bellatrix left the boy-who-lived broken in Denbigh.

 **A/N:** Smoke break.

One more chapter (for real this time).

 **Chapter one of "Two Dozen Veela" will be released with the final chapter here.**

Way out on the horizon I will be publishing some original stuff somewhere as well.

 **TDV:** **Summary:** Frustrated by the inaction of the ICW, Gabrielle Delacour reaches out to an old acquaintance to investigate a series of kidnappings. H/Gabrielle

 **Extended Summary:** Harry's stunt at Gringotts during Deathly Hallows had consequences, leading to Gringotts freezing his assets. Depressed, drunk, and drugged the PI takes on a case that could give him everything he ever wanted. (Rated M for lots of swearing, sexual situations/insinuations, sexual violence, regular violence, drug use, swearing, booze, etc.


	28. Megalomaniacs and Tyrants

**Disclaimer:** These are all JKR's characters and her world.

 **AN:** One more time for the people in the back: I know I stole the name "Calypso Rosier" from **"Harry Potter and the Boy Who Lived"** by **Santi**. As previously stated I liked the name and remember enjoying the story, that's it.

 **Final A/N** : I don't name chapters because not all chapters deserve names. For the capstone, however, I thought it was appropriate. 'Megalomaniacs and Tyrants.' I think it sums the entire story up nicely. Thanks for reading. The first chapter of " **Two Dozen Veela** " has been posted.

* * *

His left arm tingled pleasantly, prying him from his meditation. Voldemort always enjoyed the calm before the storm, taking solace in the serenity of meditation. A skill learned at Hogwarts to control his emotions. Around him his men eyed him with varying degrees of interest.

The calm and calculating Severus Snape, passive and unreadable behind his mask.

Lucius, an arrogant look on his regal features but he knew better. Even had his plans not involved his son Voldemort knew Lucius was always nervous before battle, preferring the hallowed halls of the Wizengamot to the savagery of war.

Barty Crouch Jr. wore his insanity on his face, whether he was born with the psychopathy or it was developed at Azkaban he did not know, but the Dark Lord knew a lust for battle and a keen intelligence lurked behind those sociopathic eyes.

His serpentine orbs glided over the squat grey-haired man trembling slightly, a useful idiot if he had ever met one. Proof that one ability could make up for exceptional deficiency.

"Avada Kedavra!" He spewed hatefully at the French necromancer to the left of Pettigrew, causing the rat to piss himself in fright while the traitor dropped lifelessly to the floor. A few waves of his wand later and the man's body had been reduced to ash.

The Dark Lord gave Snape a nearly imperceptible nod. He could question the man's loyalty, but not his effectiveness as a spy. The damage caused by DuPont's treachery could be examined later.

He felt a calm pass through him as time drew nigh. He felt the magic within him tingle in excitement. He needed this. Yearned for it even. The world had forgotten his might, tonight they would remember.

"It is time." Voldemort said calmly. He hadn't felt this alive in years.

* * *

Lucius exhaled nervously as he chanced a glance at Draco's godfather, trusting in Severus's ability to survive among chaos more than whatever deal he had with Greengrass and Potter.

Unsurprisingly the potions master disappeared without so much as glancing his way. They all had their part to play.

Lucius hardened his face as he entered the large room, his small cadre of death eaters eyeing him nervously, most covered in dirt and blood, some nursing fresh injuries from the Battle in Denbigh. "Williams." He purred, his voice defaulting to a deadly calm that he desperately hoped disguised his own fear. "Gather your men and head to the Shrieking Shack, I'll send the signal."

The younger man nodded hesitantly, his eyes glancing through the long windows and out towards the full moon, as if to exemplify his point a high-pitched howl cut through the snow filled sky. The man wanted to question Lucius but questioning his superior was akin to questioning the Dark Lord. Twenty years ago nobody would have had the nerve, tonight Lucius wasn't so sure. How many would the dark lord lose in his bloodlust? "You best get moving Williams. Time is running out."

The younger man was too smart to lead his men to slaughter. They would abandon their lord the second the tide of the battle shifted. He had analyzed the preliminary reports; neither side, he imagined, had anticipated this much loss of life.

"Yes Lord Malfoy." Williams said with a respectful bow, glancing evenly at his own lieutenants before sliding his mask into place and disappearing with a pop. In that moment he wondered just how far Snape's network reached.

Stepping out into the cold night sky Lucius glanced east towards Hogwarts, the castle was nearly impossible to see through the snow, and sighed. He regretted bringing his son into this but saw no other way. Silently he tapped his familial ring three times signaling Draco.

He watched in detachment as Crouch and his men torched the small wizarding town, sending shrieks of terror into the night as witches and wizards lost everything in one cruel swoop. Their lives destroyed by the man who proudly displayed Salazar's gift, promising to make the world safe for his kind.

From the hills howling beasts tore through the town square to greet those fleeing the flames with teeth exposed, tearing through flesh and bone with barbaric glee.

This wasn't honorable. This wasn't what his father had been promised when Tom Riddle had come to dinner seeking his support. This wasn't the might of magic, this was the savagery of tyranny.

Magic. Education. Culture. The three pillars of Tom Riddle's new world would bring about a peace in Britain. That's what Abraxas had believed in. It's what Lucius had dedicated his life to. The brutality was a means to an end, not an end of itself.

' _He let Bellatrix kill him.'_ The quiet disgust stayed his nerves. The honor of his family demanded it. The filthy half-blood may have lost his perspective but Lucius had not.

Lucius watched impassively as a wolf ripped apart a child.

He didn't want this.

While Greyback and his pack butchered the townspeople Crouch and his crew had turned the town square into a kill box as auror's apparating into Hogsmeade were rerouted to painful death.

The sound of terror was nearly worse than the carnage itself as the grievously injured were left to die lonely, long drawn out deaths, their moans and pleas forcing unpleasant thoughts into his mind; is this what his life had been leading to? Is this world a better place than it was in the years after Grindelwald?

While the town burned Crouch and his men had turned murder into a visual sport as dozens of men and women competed to see who could make the biggest scene.

Lucius hadn't served magic he had betrayed it. Following an abomination, working with beasts.

The distinctive, rapid laughter of Barty Crouch Jr. could be heard above the terror as his Tibetan Priestess forced a vial of green down a prisoner's throat causing his skin to crack and his veins to bulge to a ridiculous size. Like a river blood flowed from the cracks and Lucius watched as the veins reduced to a more normal size as the prisoner bled to death over the course of nearly a minute.

The world wasn't better. He had failed.

The blond man removed a small cube from a hidden pocket before hesitating slightly; would his family be better with Potter?

He didn't know, but it had become worth the risk to find out.

Lucius closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, twisting the cube twice counterclockwise before collapsing to his knees.

Out in the square the kill box flickered before quickly fading, leaving his former comrades in an unexpected situation.

Let the games begin.

* * *

Her hazel eyes flowed over the room before settling on Draco, who seemed to attract the nervous stares of Miles, Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle. The blond boy didn't seem to notice her gaze as he calmly stood up and exited the common room, the rest on his heels a moment later.

She didn't hesitate as she stood and tapped her head with her ebony wand, shuddering slightly as the peculiar sensation of an egg being cracked over her head engulfed her, leaving Calypso nearly invisible as she slipped out of the dungeons in pursuit.

She twisted her way through the halls, following the heavy footsteps of Crabbe and Goyle as they lugged their bodies at a slightly less frantic pace than their friends.

In her periphery she was aware that the paradigm had shifted. As she ascended in pursuit of her targets dozens of howls cut through the night sky like a knife, while flame and smoke could be seen on the horizon through the heavy snowfall.

Calypso felt her heart rate rise as her window opened. War was at her doorstep. This was it.

When she was younger, her father would preach the importance of seizing the day. Life was comprised of small opportunities. Nearly imperceptible, fleeting moments to become great, he would say. The trick lay in recognizing and capitalizing on those moments.

As she slipped into the room she swore Draco looked through her but said nothing as the door shut softly.

She watched in silence as Draco listlessly directed Parkinson, Bletchley, Crabbe and Goyle before touching his scion ring as the quartet skulked out the door.

She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help it. "You don't have to do this, you know." She said softly from the doorframe, her disillusionment charm shimmering out of sight, leaving her alone with him in the dimly lit room, shielded from the chaos of the outside world.

Calypso stepped forward with the slightest bit of hesitation, taking a moment to examine her old friend for the first time in what felt like years.

Heavy bags framed a pair of sad grey eyes, his posture lacking the pride she had so come to admire while his appearance on the whole lacked bluster. The anxiety that came with the demands of his family had finally caught up with him. The ambition of Abraxas was being paid for by the sanity of his only grandson.

Is that what this was?

Her own fears bubbled to the surface, threatening to overflow. Would her ancestors pay the price for her actions?

Abraxas' had. So had Ophelia's.

He smiled sadly at her. "Hello Calypso." His voice was full of emotion and her own anxieties came to the surface once more.

She couldn't do this. Why did she have to do this? Why did Draco? Why did Daphne? Why did Harry?

She pushed those thoughts from her mind. There would be no salvation for them. They had long since chosen their paths.

Was that it? Was that how Abraxas and Lucius became who they became? Had they come to understand that fatal flaw?

"You don't have to do this." She said softly once more, her façade slipping. She didn't even know what 'this' was.

Draco flashed her a dazzling, hollow smile. "Of course I don't." His words lacked their usual arrogance. "I do it for the pleasure of the dark lord." He finished with an exaggerated bow.

His shoulders drooped and the smile fell from his handsome face when he saw her. "Everyone has a master, Calypso, do you trust yours?"

"Who is your master, Draco?" She said, avoiding the question.

"These are just power games, Rosie. We all serve megalomaniacs and tyrants." He responded, avoiding her question.

When they were younger they'd roll down the hills behind Malfoy Manor, spending hours between lessons talking in the garden about nothing consequential. Not surprising, given their age, but meaningful nonetheless. How she missed those moments when their most difficult choice had been lunch.

"Harry is neither."

"No, he is not." She smelled the familiar peppermint on his breath and in that moment she desperately wanted to kiss him.

He pulled away. "Daphne is both."

"Daphne loves Harry. They balance each other." Her response was immediate, as though she had been prepared for the question. She frowned at the thought.

"For now." He said, not convinced by her argument. "We're fifteen, Calypso. What happens in three years? Five years? When they break up? Life isn't a romance novel. Childish relationships rarely last."

Her silence spoke volumes.

He turned from her, walking towards the room's lone portrait, a pot of flowers drowning in the rain.

"This war ends tonight, Rosie." He said with more conviction than she had heard from him in some time. "The Dark Lord. Bellatrix. Vector. They'll all be dead. There will only be one mad dog left."

He turned towards her abruptly, closing the distance between them before coming to a stop in front of her, a determined look on his face. "My family is leaving tonight. There is nothing for us here anymore." The proclamation caught her off guard. Malfoy's did not run.

"You can't let mad dogs live, Rosie."

He turned to leave. Acting on impulse, she tore the sleeve covering his left arm, exposing blank skin.

She smiled.

"You're a good man, Draco." And she meant it. Draco understood the cost of this war better than most. "But your family created this world, don't lecture me on morality."

His nostrils flared and his lips contorted into a snarl. "Exactly!" Explosions rocked the castle, adding to the drama of the moment. "Which is why I know what I'm talking about!"

She remained unmoved. What sacrifice wasn't enough for her family? "Megalomaniacs and tyrants, my friend." She said sadly. It wasn't supposed to end this way. They had chapters left to their story. "The cycle has to end somewhere."

"I won't stop you from your task, Rosie." He said in resignation. "But if you get the chance, put the bitch down."

* * *

The dank, windowless room smelled of still water and mold. A dead rat lay rotting in the corner, as did the core of an apple and a smattering of cockroaches desperately trying to flee from the light of her wand.

Mipsy had done remarkable work repurposing the wine cellar.

In front of her a bound and gagged Septima Vector stared at her in cold defiance, it took all of Daphne's self-control not to kill the bitch then and there.

Instead she shut her green eyes and took a calming breath. Outside she could hear the rolling thunder cut through the snowstorm, the weather a near perfect metaphor for her current mental state.

Without opening her eyes she flicked her wand several times and waited calmly for a moment. When she opened them several seconds later Sirius Black's former fiancée was still gagged, but now she was naked and bound vertically, her arms stretched out on either side, to a tall wooden cross.

"Muggles don't get a lot of things right. But they know how to prolong suffering." She started evenly.

She felt nothing as she stared at the naked woman. "I would argue that they mastered it long ago."

This was for Alfred, Astoria, and Victoria Greengrass.

"The oldest recorded crucifixion comes from Herodotus who noted that Darius crucified 3,000 inhabitants of Babylon."

Recognition entered her former mentor's eyes as a savage smile fixed itself to Daphne's face.

"From Persia, crucifixion spread to the Assyrians, Scythians, Taurians, the Germans, Celts, even us Britons gave it a try." She ended with a humorless laugh.

Another flick of her wand produced a hammer and a box of nails.

Daphne relished the terror in her captive's eyes and removed the gag.

"You won't get away with this." The traitor stuttered briefly. "Bellatrix will come for me. She'll make you pay." Septima's eyes betrayed her.

Daphne laughed maniacally as thunder shook the underground cellar once more. "Bellatrix nearly tortured you into insanity this evening, my dear." Daphne said, mimicking her captive's cadence. "She wants you dead more than she wants me dead. Enemy of her enemy and all that."

Daphne paralyzed the woman's arms in place and steadied her nerves before grabbing a hammer and a nail as Septima had replaced her fear with defiance, her head held high on the cross.

She filled with excitement as she aligned the nail with the center of the spy's hand and swung her hammer in a well-practiced motion, rifling through muscle and bone before finding wood on the other side. The blood curdling scream of Septima Vector was music to her ears.

"The term 'crucifixion' bears the meaning; 'to put up posts, to bind to a cross, to hang.'" Daphne aligned a second nail on the other hand of the guilty. "Isn't etymology fascinating!" She said as she buried another nail deep in Vector's other palm.

This time her captive lost control of her bowels in addition to the scream.

Daphne laughed.

"Kill me." Vector begged. "Just kill me you psychopath."

Daphne gave her a pitying look. "Mipsy!" She called out.

When her elf appeared Daphne smiled. "Please heal our guest, but do not let her out of her cell." She instructed calmly, feeling the mirror in her pocket warm slightly. "You don't get off that lightly, Vector." She said coldly as she erected a privacy ward and answered her mirror to a bruised and bloodied Harry.

"Is she dead?" He asked.

Daphne looked at Vector before looking back at her boyfriend with a satisfied smile. "Yes." She said. "Good." He responded before taking on a more serious expression. "Voldemort is attacking Hogsmeade. He's going for the horcrux." She nodded in understanding. She and Snape had planned for this. "I'm on my way."

Daphne grabbed several potions before glancing at Vector once more.

Everyone has their secrets.

* * *

Reaching into her pocket, Calypso grabbed a vial, unstopped the stopper and downed it in one well-practiced motion.

She felt her bones contract and her body shrink as she carefully replaced her fourth year uniform with one of Abigail Bletchley's first year uniforms.

The light blonde locks and green eyes of Abigail Bletchley stared back at her in the mirror as she set her watch for thirty minutes before leaving the room in a sprint in pursuit of Crabbe and Goyle.

Miles either didn't know or didn't care about what these two smegmas were doing to his sister. It made her sick.

She caught up with them just beyond the Slytherin common room near an unused classroom, making sure to be just loud enough to draw the attention of the two large boys with her footsteps.

The pair turned to look at her, a slow smile spreading across Crabbe's face. "Hey Abigail." Vincent's voice was always slow and forced as though he had to think of each word in particular before forming a sentence.

While he spoke Gregory had made an attempt at sneaking behind her as to force the smaller girl into the unused classroom to her right.

Calypso allowed herself to be backed into the room but paid attention to not let either of the larger boys get behind her.

Her breath quickened as they shut the door, the only light in the room being the moon shining through a portrait.

It was Crabbe who made the first move; reaching out with a meaty left hook.

As Abigail, she deftly dodged the large boy's poor attempts before slashing her wand like a scythe through the air, her spell finding its mark, tearing through Crabbe's jeans and emasculating him, leaving him weeping in a pool of blood on the floor.

While she was active Goyle had not been idle, striking her in the side of the head with a chair, knocking the breath out of her and forcing her forward, she nearly lost her balance as Goyle jumped on her back, nearly crushing her with his weight.

Using her leg strength she flipped him over her shoulder and onto the hard ground, stabbing him in the throat with her wand before directing it at the boys crotch and repeating the spell once more.

As they bled out in front of Abigail, she felt her body begin to shift as her timer rang out and she was Calypso once more.

Her change had no effect on the dying boys and she found herself slightly disappointed that their fates seemed to have so little effect on their final moments.

She sighed in disappointment. There wasn't time to dawdle.

She found Miles Bletchley and Pansy Parkinson making out in the broom cupboard next to the classroom where Crabbe and Goyle had been left to die.

The castle shook, disturbing the happy couple from their revelry and drawing attention to herself, standing in the doorway.

Bletchley's wand was quicker than her own, she didn't have time to avoid the cutting curse that ripped through her left arm, severing it at the joint.

She hissed in pain while the adrenaline allowed her to keep her focus. "Avada Kedavra!" Calypso spat hatefully, forcing the six syllables out through her agony.

A second later the older boy was dead, leaving his ugly lover alone with her, a stunned look on her pig-like face. "Avada Kedavra!" She snarled again, leaving Parkinson dead as well while the castle shook, this time dislodging dirt and debris from the wall.

Time was running out.

Severed arm in hand, Calypso ran from the broom closet and back towards the common room. This was all for naught if she didn't play her part.

As she ran, she heard yelling coming from the upper levels and she imagined the entire castle in close quarter combat against each other, using the children as shields in their quest for power.

She found herself wondering after her friend and what he must be going through at this moment. Did he make it out of the castle? Was he with his parents? Was he dead? She sure hoped she would see him again.

She felt the attention of the room shift her way the second she entered the Slytherin common room. Calypso supposed she was quite a sight, bloodied and missing an arm, a battle taking place above. The nervous atmosphere of the room was unlike anything she had encountered at Hogwarts. Slytherin's were proud and ambitious, yet tonight, as a collective, the coat of arms on their right breasts may as well have been the dark mark.

She tapped the umbrella stand next to the entrance, drawing the attention of the wooden snake with emerald eyes.

Calypso ignored the stares and hissed at the snake.

She waited with baited breath for what felt like an eternity before the snake swayed slightly, nodding its head to the sound of her parseltongue.

The door to the common room glowed a dark green, locking the room down from intruders. Regardless of what happened next she had taken the first steps to ensuring the safety of four heirs to noble and ancient houses.

"If you want a layer of added security, follow me." She said with more confidence than she felt. This was it. This was her moment.

She ignored the creeping pain where her arm used to be and puffed out her chest with pride as she strutted across the entranceway towards an unassuming end table next to an equally unassuming bookshelf in the hallway separating the common room from the living quarters.

Looking up she saw a handful of scared first years cowering in the corner, catching one's eyes she smiled. "Don't be scared." She said in her most soothing voice. Turning towards the bookshelf her face hardened and she hissed once more.

Twice now she had spoken parseltongue in front of witnesses in the house of the snake.

Rumors would swirl.

Slowly the bookshelf moved to the side, drawing the attention of the rest of the common room. "There's plenty of room for everyone." She said gently, ushering in most of the lower years along with a large portion of the older years.

"Once I seal this room I will not open it." She said urgently to her remaining classmates still lounging on the couches.

When none made to move she nodded her head sharply. "Very well." She said curtly before hissing at the bookshelf once more, sealing the entrance.

Calypso Rosier had played her part; the rest was out of her hands.

* * *

He breathed heavily, pain coursing through his body in the empty field outside Denbigh, broken, but alive.

Sitting up he spat a mixture of blood and snot into the tall grass, desperate to rid himself of Bellatrix.

Slowly he began to heal himself, starting with his shattered right wrist before moving on to his shoulder and finishing with a look at his mangled thigh.

He felt feverish. No doubt the result of infection and blood loss, but otherwise completely exhilarated as he downed several healing potions.

A pang of guilt rang through him as around Harry the cries of the dying filled the cold winter sky.

He pushed the guilt from his mind as he jogged around for several seconds, testing his still sore leg before disappearing from the field silently, reappearing near the 'Three Broomsticks' a moment later to a horror show.

Smoke, screams, and snow filled the air as terrorists in white masks, illuminated by the moonlight, teamed with werewolves to massacre the sleepy hamlet adjacent to Hogwarts.

He didn't have time to take the scene in, however, as his wand was in motion the second he landed, dismembering a werewolf who had been chasing Madam Rosmerta before engaging two dirt-covered death eaters in battle.

' _They came from Denbigh.'_ His mind registered as Harry dispatched of them both with a single cutting curse.

Somewhere in their planning process the death eaters had become aware of their pending attack and now the ministry was paying the consequences as a largely unprotected Hogsmeade burned to the ground in the middle of a snowstorm.

His eyes searched for Daphne but found Lucius Malfoy instead, making his way through the town towards the Shrieking Shack, eliciting mixed emotions from him. The man had been a member of the Dark Lord's inner circle for twenty years, Lucius wasn't Draco, he had committed crimes against Wizardry. He presented a legitimate societal threat.

Harry watched as Lucius stuck to the shadows, going unnoticed as he moved.

' _Why?'_

Why would Lucius Malfoy be sticking to the shadows?

' _To carry out his mission. To meet up with the Dark Lord…'_ Neither option rang true. This was Voldemort's move, hiding would shield Lucius from glory.

' _...to escape the Dark Lord.'_ Had Lucius Malfoy been part of Daphne's deal with Snape?

' _What was her deal with Snape?'_

Harry pushed those thoughts from his mind temporarily before putting himself under a disillusionment charm, quickly closing the gap between himself and the man who had spent twenty years trying to bring down the Wizengamot, unsure of what to do next.

' _The tunnel.'_ That was Voldemort's next move. He was going for his horcruxes, he reminded himself.

Reluctantly he broke off his pursuit of the slippery Death Eater, heading left while the blond man went right - he could deal with Malfoy later.

Harry set off at a light jog, ignoring the lingering pain in his leg as he made his way past the confusion and towards the well-hidden entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. He didn't have time to waste, if Voldemort realized he was mortal, there was no telling what he may do, Harry needed to press his advantage.

Something impacted his head, knocking him face-first into a snow drift as a bout of mad laughter coursed through the air.

Pushing aside his pain, Harry rolled to the side, a dark purple spell scorching the snow where he had been just a half-second later.

Desperately Harry conjured a thick, nearly solid golden shield to protect himself from the onslaught of the slight man with pale skin, dirty blond hair, yellowing teeth, and a long, jagged scar on his jawline.

"Harry Potter!" His opponent purred. "I don't believe we have met." He said between curses as Harry dipped and dodged out of the way with only a slight loss of mobility in his leg. "My name is Bartemius Crouch Jr. Your mudblood of a mother gave me this scar." He finished, tapping his wand to the ugly line running along his jaw.

Harry responded by transfiguring a snow drift into a menacing snowman, leaving Crouch to take care of that while he followed up with a killing curse, hitting the man square in the chest. He didn't have time to waste on someone so insignificant.

An explosion drew his attention east, his eyes widening in horror as Harry watched Ravenclaw tower collapse to the ground.

* * *

He gazed at the carnage over his aquiline nose, a nearly imperceptible frown on his face as he eyed the destruction from his perch atop the North Tower. The auror's had started their assault on Hogwarts prematurely. His frown deepened, Severus had thought he had instilled more discipline, it appears he had been mistaken.

"You started without me, Banks." He said calmly to the man with curly brown hair and a self-important look on his face, this wasn't the plan.

The severe man stared at him arrogantly. "The men were getting restless. When I saw flames on the horizon, I thought it best to begin why we held the advantage." Around Banks the senior auror's subordinates nodded their heads enthusiastically while Williams and his band of defectors scowled. This was a minor inconvenience, the situation was salvageable.

"Avada Kedavra!" Severus barked, ending the auror captains life in a moment. "The dark lord expects his orders to be followed to the letter!" He spat, playing his part to a 'T'. Slightly behind him Williams and his men nodded their heads dutifully for any observers. "Death Eaters!"

Around him a swath of green light erupted, leaving the auror leadership dead in front of them.

"Williams!" Severus barked once more, drawing the younger man's attention. "Kill all resistance and protect the students. Be surgical. Start with the Slytherins. Martinez and her group will handle the rest." He barked, grabbing hold of a younger woman with hair as dark as her skin. "Stay with me." Josephine smiled viciously, her sharp eyes narrowing as she scanned the area as they descended the spiral stairs in a hurry. The younger woman had many talents, not the least of which was her exceptional wandwork. Students like her were worth the pain caused by the Neville Longbottom's of the world.

"This way!" He barked, ducking into a passage behind a suit of armor, depositing them just outside the Great Hall. "The Headmasters office, follow my lead."

"Yes, Severus." The younger woman said calmly with a smile.

Despite the situation the curmudgeonly potions master smiled - it was nice to not be questioned.

Portraits ran too and fro, yelling in hysterics as teachers and students battled death eaters and auror's in the corridor. He watched in blank disgust as Marcus Flint tore the robes off of Lavender Brown and pinned her against the wall.

"Avada Kedavra." Snape muttered, ending the life of his former student without hesitation.

A group of auror's and death eaters who had seen his betrayal stared at him for a long moment, giving the potions master the window necessary to fire off a rapid trio of killing curses, decimating the men in front of him. "Killing curses only, Josephine!" He yelled, a pleasant undertone in his normally harsh voice. "We don't have time to battle."

"Yes, Severus." The woman with dark, unblemished skin said obediently, summoning a boulder into the path of a curse meant for a student as they made their way through the curse-scarred-castle towards a familiar gargoyle, a trail of bodies in their wake.

"Lemonheads." Severus muttered the override phrase, an unfamiliar smile resting on his face as his protege guarded the entrance. "Seal the entrance behind you, Josephine." He barked as he jogged up the winding stone turret and into the grand, circular office that dominated the Headmaster's Tower.

Ignoring the frightened looks of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses, Severus stopped at the end to stare into the bright blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

"The time has come, Severus." The imprint of the beloved headmaster said softly from behind his desk in a set of resplendent purple robes, his abnormally large feet in their yellow, wool socks just visible from beneath the desk.

He missed the man who was there when everyone else had ran, the man who gave so much yet taken even more. "It has." He replied, his voice steady as the castle shook.

"Are we ready?" Dumbledore asked, a slight hesitancy in his phantom voice. He was still fighting Tom Riddle, even from beyond the pale.

"That hardly matters." He replied bluntly.

Dumbledore smiled, "I suppose you're right." Albus said before standing up and disappearing from view, leaving Severus to wonder just how the artist had captured that damn twinkle.

With only the slightest hesitation he removed his yew wand from its holster and pointed it at Albus's frame. "Fiendfyre." He muttered.

A controlled burst of the cursed fire leapt from his wand, devouring the portrait in seconds, leaving a quartette of wardstones covered in runes. With a bit of urgency he tapped the necessary runes and stared out the high-arching windows to the north and smiled as Hogwarts glowed a brilliant gold. Severus didn't get to enjoy the moment for long as his left arm burned, dropping him to his knees.

He was too late, Voldemort was in Hogwarts.

He pushed the thought from his mind, the dark lord was not his concern.

"Josephine." He snapped, drawing the attention of his protege. "In the closet behind the coat rack are two brooms. Grab them."

While Josephine grabbed the brooms, Severus looked out the large windows, his attention falling on Ravenclaw tower where Martinez and her team were coming under heavy fire.

Grabbing his broom, the pair broke the large window, sending glass flying into the cold night sky the pair kicked off, the former Ravenclaw seeker leading the way. "Keep low!" Josephine says over her shoulder. "We don't want to draw attention!" Severus nodded, uncomfortable in the air as he shifted about nervously, his anxiety creeping in despite the briefness of the ride.

They landed on the bridge connecting Ravenclaw Tower to the rest of the school, anonymous amongst the chaos.

Snape took aim, quickly engaging a group of his former comrades with a well-practiced spell chain, dispatching of them with ease and drawing the attention of Jebediah Flint.

"Traitor!" The large man roared as he launched several killing curses at him in quick succession, leaving Snape to smile as he avoided death, responding with a bonebreaker, catching the older man in the neck, eliciting a pleasant crunch.

From the bridge he could see Ravenclaw Tower shaking under the assault of the death eaters. The entire structure was taking damage from all sides, the tower would fall in the matter of moments.

Stone fell from the side of the tower as a large portion of one of the lower levels was torn open by spellfire, causing a partial collapse of the upper levels.

The fighting continued as both sides desperately tried to escape the collapsing tower.

Severus felt a pang of emotion as he wondered just how many would die when the tower gave-way. _'There's nothing you can do.'_ He told himself as another portion of the tower caved in. _'We have to leave.'_

"Josephine!" He called, catching the attention of the younger woman. "To the Great Hall." He said calmly as the house of Rowena Ravenclaw came tumbling to the ground.

The pair hoped back on their brooms as around them and on the ground the spellfire seemed to die cease immediately.

It was then that Severus spotted Williams in the courtyard, fifty death eaters bound and gagged in front of him.

Landing clumsily on the ground Severus met Williams halfway, waiting for the younger man to speak.

"That outta do it, sir." The soft spoken man said just loud enough for Severus to hear him over the howling of the wind. "What would you like us to do with them."

Severus looked at the prisoners dispassionately. "Kill them."

Williams nodded his head obediently and gave the order.

Should Potter fail, Severus wouldn't be responsible for allowing the dark lord to regain his army.

* * *

She arrived with a soft _*pop*_ on a snow-covered hill just outside Hogsmeade caked in blood, her wand already drawn, eager to return to battle.

Tuning out the screams, she turned her eagle eyes towards the fighting, searching for Harry to no avail, her green eyes settling on a trio of death eaters two hundred meters to the east. Daphne smiled as she levelled her wand and silently unleashed a single mustard colored spell towards her targets, cackling in delight when the single strand separated into three separate spells, squashing each of her targets heads like melons, spilling blood over the area and drawing attention to herself for the first time.

The drums of war pounded in her ears as she cantered towards the chaos eagerly, batting spells out of the air with glee, Ophelia's style prancing down main street butchering enemies as she headed towards Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, a malicious smile on her twisted features. Agreement be damned, this family had financed a genocidal madman for over fifty years, their victims deserves justice.

' _Stupefy.'_ She repeated twice silently, stunning the pair and transfiguring them into a set of rib bones before apparating to the roof of the Shrieking Shack to lie in wait.

Nonplussed by the violence, Daphne scanned the area for Lucius Malfoy's familiar blond mane, smiling with glee upon seeing him approaching from the west.

Calming herself Daphne took aim, her wand taking a moment to sync with the movement of her target. _'Petrificus totalus.'_

In the heat of battle nobody seemed to notice Lucius Malfoy collapsing to the ground as stiff as a board. _'Accio Lucius Malfoy.'_

Her victim flew through the air before crashing into the side of the Shrieking Shack with a loud smack. Though his body was unable to react his eyes winced in pain at the impact.

A wave of her wand later and Daphne, Lucius, and two rib bones were encased in a dome of privacy. A second wave of her wand bound Lucius to a chair while a third undid the transfiguration on the pair of rib bones , revealing a still-stunned Draco and Narcissa Malfoy.

She relished the terror in his eyes when Voldemort's financier comprehended what was about to happen. _'Finite.'_ She thought, cancelling the petrification while keeping her victim bound.

"We had a deal." He said calmly. If he was affected by the paradigm shift he did a damn good job keeping it out of his voice.

"Yes." She said with equal calm, staring towards where Ravenclaw Tower used to stand. "We did."

Daphne relished in the silence before continuing;"you're no longer necessary. You and your family present a significant risk to our future."

Though it was hard to see his face through the snow, Daphne was slightly taken aback by how nonplussed the man seemed in the face of certain death.

"Crucio!" She spat angrily at Lucius Malfoy, enraged by his lack of fear. She wanted him to feel what all his victims felt in their final moments. He wanted him to beg.

She undid the spell and allowed him to regain his wits.

"We present a threat to nobody. Not now." He said, his voice quivering from the pain. "We chose the wrong side in a conflict. We lost. Alfred would understand, he would let us leave peacefully."

Her eyes narrowed to slits and for the first time a look of fear briefly crossed Lord Malfoy's features.

The idea came to her in a flash. A savage smile on her face as her wand went into motion, quickly reviving and immobilizing Draco and Narcissa.

"The imperius. That's what made you commit your crimes during the first war, that's what you told the Wizengamot, right?"

She turned from him and towards Lucius's only son. "Imperio." Her voice was cruel and unsympathetic. There were no innocent party's here.

She looked on in disgust at Draco's lack of will as he emotionlessly stood up, waiting for the voice in his head to tell him what to do.

"Your heir is weak-minded." She observed, conjuring a knife with a serrated blade and setting it on the ground she turned her attention back to Lucius. "Just like his father."

"Pick up the knife, Draco." Daphne verbalized for effect, her voice void of emotion.

When her classmate had the knife in his hand Daphne smiled pleasantly. "Now stab your mother in the abdomen." For a moment Draco looked as though he was fighting the curse. Ultimately he lacked the will.

A pair of pained cries cut through the night sky as Draco's knife cut through Narcissa, her warm blood melting the snow beneath her bound feet.

"Again." Daphne repeated as she watched Draco, with tears streaming down his face, end his mother's life. A look of horror and sadness on his exhausted features. She laughed once more. "The wife's life ends at the end of a knife." she sang mockingly. Before turning on her prey. "You deserve this, Lucius."

"Draco." She sang. "Come stand in front of your father and cut your throat." His grey eyes were wrought with pain and for a moment Daphne wasn't sure he was under her control. Either way he took several steps forward and complied, spraying both herself and Lucius with blood, his lifeless body stumbling forward and falling into the snow, his legs twitching as he died, eliciting another cry from Lucius.

She lowered herself until she was looking at the broken man in his dead eyes.

"I hope this memory plays in your mind for the rest of your miserable life." Standing up she levelled her wand at the man, a satisfied smile resting on her otherwise angry face. "Crucio." She said, holding the curse till the man's screams no longer filled the sky.

* * *

He downed a pepperup potion and withdrew his map of the Chamber of Secrets, thankful that the earth beneath his feet were frozen as he ducked past a smattering of roots and paused briefly, confirming what he already knew to be true before heading deep into the basilisks hunting tunnel.

He fought to remain focused as he lay chase to Voldemort, but he couldn't help but wonder how many of his classmates were killed when Ravenclaw Tower collapsed, what was happening in Hogsmeade, or what would happen should they fail tonight.

' _Two hundred and fifty meters ahead.'_ He reminded himself, shifting his focus to the task at hand. Voldemort was going for his final horcrux, unaware of its destruction. _'When he finds out…'_ They had assumed that eventuality, but the inevitability of that outcome weighed heavily on Harry as he ran to close the gap between himself and the maniac.

"You forgot to silence your boots, Lord Potter." The calm, amused voice of his unseen nemesis elicited a cold shiver down his spine. "When tracking the greatest wizard in history it helps to mask your scent."

The dark tunnel went quiet before a deadly green light emerged, forcing Harry to the frozen cobblestone beneath him as he rolled away from a second killing curse before summoning a shield of earth to intercept curses three and four.

"You're much more agile than Antonin, deceptively so." Harry could feel the unseen dark lord's hot breath on his neck and unleashed a barrage of killing curses in the general direction, causing a portion of the tunnel to cave in.

"I was impressed by your cultivation of Marcel. Harry. You truly had a gift. Had you chose to cultivate it properly, you would have a future."

The tunnel widened as they approached the castle. Above them the ceiling shook. "Give my regards to your parents."

He dodged the first three curses with ease before returning fire with nary a thought, instincts taking over as he exchanged fire with the madman.

"Your wand movements are precise, though your accuracy and anticipation would need work to defeat me."

His body shivered. He was losing this fight.

"That, however, would come with experience you will never receive." The dark lord almost sounded disappointed.

A torrent of yellow and orange erupted from his enemies wand towards him, tearing through his abdomen before he had time to react.

Harry struggled to steady his breathing and felt himself losing consciousness.

"Goodbye, Harry Potter." He heard the soft voice of Tom Riddle call out as he closed his eyes.

* * *

Hogsmeade was a mass of confusion. The Death Eaters - who had been congregated in the town square - had abruptly found themselves surrounded and reliant on the werewolves to distract the Ministry long enough for Bellatrix Lestrange - resplendent in her jet black dragonhide shimmering in the light of the full moon - to execute a counterattack from atop a small hill surrounded by allies.

There was no smile on Tonks's face when she caught her aunt's eye, only the look of determination as Bellatrix Lestrange raised a solitary, well-manicured eyebrow in her direction, daring her to try.

The former dueling champion dipped into an aggressive crouch and unleashed a large tendril of bright white lightning, illuminating the surrounding area and striking down her enemies with each flick of her wrist as she advanced on the insane woman.

"It's like looking in a mirror!" Her estranged aunt shouted above the noise.

A year prior her aunts comments would have caused her to lose control of her emotions. Now she smirked; her own jet black hair, high cheekbones, and violet eyes advancing on Voldemort's purveyor of evil.

"Not bad for a filthy little mudblood!" Bellatrix cackled, baiting Tonks as she unleashed a quartet of buzzsaws her way.

Tonks dodged the first, smacked away the second, and took the third advanced cutter to the armor in order to effectively dodge the one aimed at her neck.

All the while Tonks's own wand went through a set of tight, well practiced motions meant to kill while her enemy laughed and returned fire.

Tonks drew first blood; her bonebreaker connecting with Bellatrix's non-wand shoulder, eliciting more laughter from her opponent. "Nymmy landed a hit!" She cooed.

Tonks ignored her, pressing her advantage, forcing the injured woman down the hill and into the thick woods below.

With a sly smile Lestrange reached into her pocket and tossed a jet black orb the size of a grapefruit - nearly invisible in the night sky - onto the ground, filling the sky with a large plume of peruvian darkness powder before disorienting Tonks further with a loud thunderclap, eliminating two of her senses.

Tonks spun on her heel to avoid a spell that appeared out of the darkness and was met with immense pain as her ribcage slowly began to expand, threatening to break through her skin.

Tonks took slow, painful breaths as she slowly reversed the curse, allowing her armor to take the brunt of her unseen aunt's abuse.

"I'm disappointed, dear Nymphadora." Bellatrix said, visible and healed. "Harry was a much greater challenge."

While Bellatrix talked, Tonks animated the roots of the trees to wrap themselves around Bellatrix's ankles, pulling the bitch to the forest floor.

Enraged at her mistake, Bellatrix, from the ground, conjured a handful of wolves, sending them her way, cutting herself loose while Tonks took care of the animals.

Taking a page out of her opponents book, Tonks sent her own quartet of cutting curses back towards her aunt and quickly followed them up with a pair of killing curses, catching Bellatrix Lestrange off guard, forcing her to dodge into one of her cutting curses.

Lestrange howled with rage as her she bled onto the ground.

"Crucio!" Bellatrix spat back. "Crucio. Crucio. Crucio." Tonks dodged the curses, responding with two more killing curses of her own.

Bellatrix avoided the curses, but just barely, the deep cut on her abdomen had left the bitch weak.

"Aunt Bellatrix!" She howled, making herself visible through the foliage she approached the weakened woman slowly, batting away Voldemort's most loyal supporter's desperate attempts at victory, she approached the woman responsible for so much suffering with a determined ease. "This is for Sirius, and Bill, the Longbottoms, and all the others." She didn't smile as she raised her wand. "Avada Kedavra."

The green light hit Bellatrix Lestrange square in the chest as the woman fell lifelessly to the forest floor, leaving her alone in the dark surrounded by battle.

She turned away from the body in silent discomfort, unsure what came next. She had never planned for survival, for what came after.

Around her the flames from the village joined the light from the moon and the stars, illuminating the blood soaked snow, boot marks, and lifeless body in her tiny opening in the forest.

What came next? She doubted that she could go back to the pageantry of dueling, while the ministry had been a means to an end. What was there to go back to?

She didn't know. War had taken everything she had ever loved and left her empty and alone.

The realization was a new boulder on her shoulders, forcing her down and defeated to the snow covered ground in depressed exhaustion, Nymphadora Tonks cried.

* * *

He hissed in pain, his eyes flickering open to a bird the size of a swan, magnificent in his red and gold plumage, weeping into his open wound.

"Fawkes?" He called out in a dazed whisper, sitting up in the dark tunnel.

An urgent trill rang from the bird and through the Chamber of Secrets as his abdomen healed itself, the magnificent gift of the mythic birds tears doing its work.

Fawkes's song brought back his focus and he was on his feet once more, Albus Dumbledore's familiar leading the way in his chase of Tom Riddle.

As the pair rounded a wide corner Fawkes flashed ahead, unleashing an ungodly howl that drew an angry roar from the unseen dark lord.

Voldemort was preoccupied with Fawkes when Harry caught up with them, providing Harry an opportunity to take the offensive.

"Avada Kedavra!" He spat out twice.

His survival caught the dark lord by surprise as the unknowingly mortal Voldemort stepped out of the way of the first of the two killing curses before positioning Fawkes to take the force of the second.

The immortal bird burst into a ball of fire before crumbling harmlessly to the tunnel floor, sure to be reborn a minute later.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Harry followed the pair of deadly green curses up with a handful of cutters and overpowered bludgeoners.

The dark lord laughed as he batted away several curses seemingly at once. "Harry, Harry, Harry." Voldemort tutted in condescension as he advanced towards him, backing them into a familiar small, circular room with high arched doorways leading to the greater castle. "You'll have to do better than -"

His bludgeoner found its mark, forcing the dark lord to let out an enraged howl as he limped out of the way of Harry's attack before beginning a counter of his own.

The dark lord was beautiful, Harry realized. Even injured he glided around the room with grace, his wand movements well-practiced and precise, no movement wasted as he attempted to end Harry's life.

Harry smiled as he dodged another curse, returning fire with a flick of his wrist, sidearm from the hip, following up with an organ rupturing curse and an up-tempo spell chain meant to keep his opponent on the defensive.

The room shook violently as Voldemort batted away his spells with an amused look on his twisted face.

Harry felt himself tiring as his spells began to slow. He realized he couldn't win this fight, his adrenaline was all but spent.

With that in mind, he reached into his pocket as he waltzed his way around the room, avoiding spellfire as he advanced towards the proper tunnel before unleashing a handful of peruvian instant darkness powder.

He silenced his feet and took off before stopping abruptly. If Voldemort was following him he wasn't going for his horcrux. He unsilenced his feet and took a hard right down a well lit, well maintained corridor surrounded on either side by non-moving portraits, suits of armor, and small enclaves and off-shoots leading to all parts of the castle.

He paused for a half second at a fork in the tunnel before heading left into the original room in the Chamber of Secrets.

The area around him dimmed slightly and the walls were less worn in this part of the tunnel. As he made his way deeper into the heart of the school the path gave way to a system of pipes and still water up to his ankles.

A spell wizzed over his head and he heard the dark lord laugh, he was much closer than Harry had realized.

He sped up and as he ran faster the pipes gave way to the larger atrium. The water, now up to his shins, splashed loudly as drudged his way to a tall, marble statue of Salazar Slytherin. Lifting himself out of the water he hissed; _'speak to me Salazar, greatest of the Hogwarts four!'_

On the opposite side of the chamber the larger-than-life face of Salazar Slytherin opened another large passage, eliciting a familiar laugh from the newly-arrived dark lord.

"The snake won't help you, Potter." _"It is loyal to me!"_ Voldemort hissed in his direction. Harry smiled and pointed his wand downwards towards the large body of water. _'Fulminis!'_ He thought.

A large strand of purple lightning struck the standing water.

The electrons from the spell hit the water and fled in all directions, expanding the touch of lightning across the water and towards his surprised enemy, who floated himself out of danger, unleashing a smattering of killing curses from midair towards Harry.

Harry conjured a marble wall to absorb the first killing curse before abandoning the statue he was on and landing in the water with a splash to avoid the other two shots of green.

' _Ruo Flagram'_ He thought, a large whip of black flames struck out towards his enemy who laughed, using the water around them to extinguish the flames with ease.

"You're tiring, Harry Potter. It won't be long now. Death is in the air." There was no arrogance present in the dark lord's voice, just a statement. A harsh bit of reality. "You should be proud. Few have fought as well as you."

Voldemort laughed once more as the tunnel shook from behind him and the basilisk made itself known for the first time.

" _Welcome, my friend!"_ Voldemort hissed at the deadly snake. _"Kill the boy."_

Instead the great snake lunged at the dark lord, mouth agape and ready to strike, catching Voldemort by surprise as he dove hastily to the left and into the water.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry shouted, his spell hitting the stone to the left of Voldemort, who was simultaneously fighting Harry and the basilisk as they circled the atrium.

He felt himself nearly stumble as his leg gave out and Harry noticed for the first time it was bleeding once more.

He looked up and took a sigh of relief as Voldemort and the basilisk fought around him, leaving him a moment to take cover.

Silently he conjured a leather belt and bite down as he cauterized his wound for a second time before digging around in his pockets. _'Damn.'_ He thought, he was out of blood replenishers.

A triumphant roar drew Harry's attention back to the situation at hand. Voldemort was moments away from killing the basilisk, his window was closing.

"Avada Kedavra. Crucio!" He spat, filling each spell fueled by the thoughts of a life Voldemort stole from him.

His killing curse missed, hitting the basilisk in its left eye dislodging several teeth and killing Slytherin's snake instantly, but his crucio struck home.

Voldemort's muscles spasmed and his nose bleed, but he did not make a sound as he stood there staring him in the eyes, glaring in anger.

Harry felt his concentration slipping as the red eyed monster across from him smiled devilishly.

' _The diary.'_ His subconscious reminded him as he fought to retain control of his mind.

' _The diary.'_ It screamed.

' _The diary.'_ He remembered. _'Possession.'_

Harry ended his spell and broke eye contact, hurling his body to the right out of the path of a spell and towards a large, yellowed tooth, his dragonhide glove clutching the fang of the basilisk as he splashed further to the right and out of the way of a second spell.

Harry conjured himself a steel platform and hopped on top before freezing the knee high water in the atrium, temporarily holding the dark lord in place.

Fang in one hand wand in another, Harry pressed his advantage. Unleashing a slew of spells towards Voldemort forcing him to defend himself rather than unfreezing himself while Harry closed the gap between them.

Voldemort's eyes widened in surprise as Harry abandoned spellfire and tackled him, slamming the dark lord's head off of the ice before burying the venom-laced fang deep in Voldemort's larynx.

The wound hissed and sizzled while Tom Riddle spasmed and foamed at the mouth as he died.

Hesitantly Harry made his way towards the still body of the man who had killed so many. His parents came to mind for the first time in ages and he allowed himself to wonder what life could have been like had Trelwaney not made that stupid prophecy, had Potter Manor not burned down, had Godric's Hollow not been attacked. He imagined a life without the Dursleys, a happy childhood with his imaginary siblings. He imagined playing chaser for Ravenclaw in the afternoon and winning his duels in the evening, his proud parents cheering him on from the stands. He imagined a life where his biggest stress was where he would be doing his postgraduate studies.

Is that the life he had lost?

As he approached the body he cautiously claimed Voldemort's wand; pausing only momentarily when it felt warm to the touch, a reminder of what may have been.

He stared down at Tom Riddle's once handsome face and with a flick of his wrist the dead dark lord was transfigured into a muggle telephone. He chuckled slightly to himself, his laughter echoing off the hollow walls. He suspected Sirius would approve of the slight.

Turning from destruction he headed out the main entrance. For the first time noticing a relative calm had descended around the castle. He smiled a hollow smile, not sure what he was supposed to do now that it was all over.

 **~~Six Months Later~~**

The sound of laughter filled the pleasant August air, drawing her attention from her book and to the sky above where a pair of redheads and Harry were tossing a quaffle.

"You're not going to become one of those quadpot-lovers when you move to Manhattan, are ya Harry?" One of the twins asked, tossing Harry the quaffle.

Her boyfriend caught it, faked left, then tossed it right to the other twin, a relaxed smile on his face. "It's quidditch or nothing for me!" He said with a small laugh. "I doubt I'll have time anyhow, the curriculum is rigorous!"

Daphne smiled a rare smile, letting her gaze linger a little longer on the former Gryffindor beaters turned entrepreneurs, Harry's investment had paid off.

Her smile evaporated from her face the moment she turned back to her book, staring blankly at the page, her happiness always fleeting. Not even her evenings with Septima provided her with much joy.

She greeted Harry with a smile and a kiss when he interrupted her a moment later. "Tonks and Remus will join us at Potter Manor for dinner." He said through heavy breaths.

She nodded in acceptance - they would be leaving for New York in the morning to start the next chapter in their lives. "I'll join you there in a moment." Daphne said, tapping her book with her index finger. "After I finish my chapter." Harry nodded in acceptance before disappearing silently, leaving her alone in Memorial Park.

She knew what she had to do and sighed, disappearing with a small _*pop*_ before reappearing in the dank cellars of Greengrass Manor. Calypso was right, it was time she moved on.

Walking through the dimly lit cellar she felt the hair on her back stand tall and found herself unexpectedly on edge.

Drawing her wand in caution, she entered Vector's cell to find it empty. Alarms went off in Daphne's head as she squared her shoulders and dipped into a crouch, her eyes darting around the dark cell, not seeing the woman anywhere.

' _How the hell can she hide here?'_ Daphne thought before a more pressing question entered her mind. _'How did she escape her shackles?'_ Her eyes fell on the partial skeleton of a rat in the corner.

A force hit Daphne in the side, dislodging her wand from her hands as the wild brown hair of Septima Vector covered her own face, temporarily blinding her.

They screamed as they wrestled on the ground, Septima using all of her minimal strength to maintain the advantage - she couldn't let this girl poison Harry's mind further; what would Sirius think?

Daphne felt herself regain control of the situation a moment later, her elbow connecting with the frail woman's rib cage, causing her family's murderer to wheeze and moan in pain as they grappled on the ground.

She felt her ribs break at the force of the girls elbow but pressed on, this was her one chance, she couldn't let it go to waste.

They wrestled maniacally on the ground for an eternity, neither gaining control of the situation.

A loud scream erupted from her mouth as her she felt the teeth of her enemy rip a chunk of flesh from her thigh as she grabbed the cherrywood wand from the cellar floor, pain forgotten as murderous thoughts ran through her head. The psychopath would die for her crimes.

"Avada Kedavra!" She yelled, killing the woman instantly as an eerie silence came over the cellar.

Calmly she stood up, casting several cleaning charms on herself. Harry was waiting and he didn't need to see her like this.

 **~~Fin~~**


End file.
